The Unburnt and Unbroken
by abbygale94
Summary: What if Jorah had reached Dany before she decided to burn King's Landing to the ground? A Dany/Jorah-centric fix it story about what might have happened if Dany hadn't gone full Mad Queen.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hey everybody! This is my first fanfic. I love the Jorah/Dany fandom so much, and wanted to take a stab at my own story. Full disclosure, I am NOT a writer- so please review, but be gentle. I haven't read the books so this is all show-verse. I hope you all enjoy.**_

_**I do not own any part of Game of Thrones. Please don't sue me.**_

CHAPTER 1 - The Bells:

Someone was shouting beneath her, "Ring the bells!" So they did. She heard them. The battle was over. The Lannister forces surrendered. The Golden Company was obliterated.

There, perched atop Drogon, she was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Daenerys Targaryen, First of Her Name, had won both the Great War and the Last War. And yet, she had never felt more defeated. Her victory was hollow. She was alone.

The perimeter of Kings Landing burned around her. The air was filled with thick smoke and the screams of the small folk.

_I've liberated them and they fear me anyway._ It left a bitter taste in her mouth. Didn't they understand their oppression? Couldn't they see that Cersei was a tyrant, intent on nothing but her own survival?

_If Cersei Lannister is not dead yet, she will be soon._

Dany had lost everything in breaking the wheel. Why did no one see that? Her people ran in terror from her. Jon could not love her. The North would never trust her. Varys betrayed her. Tyrion betrayed her. Missandei died in chains. Viserion was dead. Rhaegal was dead. Jorah…Jorah was dead.

He died for her. He died so she could have this moment. She wouldn't let him die for nothing.

_He took the light with him and now everything is dark._ It seemed that with him, all belief in her had disappeared. He was her strength, her dearest friend, her most trusted advisor, her… She was glad he could not see the destruction she would cause. Perhaps the good in her had died with Jorah.

She wished she could go back. She'd give anything to see him again. She needed his counsel now more than ever. She wanted to tell him he had been wrong about Tyrion, about Varys, and about her. She did not have a gentle heart. Not without him.

_There is no going back._

Screams filled her ears, and she felt all the resentments, the loses, the betrayals boiling inside her. Why simply break the wheel when she could decimate it? _One word_. One word was all it would take, and then she could start over. Wipe the slate clean and forget the hurt and the emptiness she felt now. **_Burn them all_** her father had said, perhaps he had been right? After all, she had promised fire and blood… She felt the word form on her tongue. She felt her spite burning her from the inside out like the dragon she was. She looked towards the Red Keep. Damn Cersei Lannister. Damn King's Landing. Damn the wheel. _Let it be fear then._

Then, before she could act, she heard him. Between the chime of the bells. Between the hoards of people. She heard him. She never thought she would hear him again. It couldn't be. He was dead. She had held his body. She had lit his pyre. And yet his voice rang out above the gruesome scene around them.

"KHALEESI!"

She couldn't see him, but it was him. Ser Jorah was somewhere in the crowd. Her breath quickened as she frantically searched the street below, but she couldn't find him. She just heard him again and again. Emotion began to overwhelm her and suddenly the world went dark.

* * *

She seemed to swim in and out of semi-consciousness. Her head was throbbing, her chest ached, her throat was raw, she felt hot and cold. How did she get here? What happened?

Images of the siege flashed across her mind. _Fire and blood, fire and blood...fire and...what did I almost do? What have I become? Daenerys Targaryen... The Mad Queen..._

The world seemed to have faded away very suddenly. The screams and smoke faded into deep and heavy darkness. Serious voices spoke in hushed tones around her. Jon? Tyrion? She only cared about one voice. The voice in the crowd.

"Jorah," she murmured. "Jorah. Please."

"Shhh. I'm here. Rest now," the voice would whisper back.

_I must be dead_, she thought. How else could she hear and feel him?

Slowly she began to find the surface of the darkness and came to. When she woke she was unsure of where she was or how she came to be there. Candles flickered around the chamber and the room seemed very hot. Heavy furs covered her, and something was obscuring the vision of her left eye. She flexed her fingers, carefully testing her body. Everything seemed to hurt. She raised her hand to gingerly touch the bandage that covered her forehead and eye. What in seven hells had happened to her? She tried to trace her mind back to the last thing she remembered. She had been on Drogon. She felt so empty and alone. Dark thoughts filled her mind, and she shuddered at what she had almost done. _Dracarys_. It would have been so easy… and then... Jorah in the crowd…

The gentle snoring coming from the chair near her bed alerted her to the presence of another person in the room.

It was him.

He was there at the side of her bed, sword at his side, book in his lap. Without thinking, she tried to get up and go to him, ignoring the pain that bloomed through her body when she did. She needed to touch him. She had to reach him before he was gone. Her entire body rebelled against her urgency- she felt dizzy, her breath pinched her lungs- but still, she stood from the bed. She took an unsteady step towards her sleeping bear. The pain in her right leg overwhelmed her, and she called out as her knees gave way. Jorah woke with a start and caught her before she could collapse, his face full of worry.

"Easy now." Gently he lifted her into his arms and sat with her on the bed. Wild sobs caught in her throat as she clung to him; desperately trying to make the phantom stay with her.

His blue eyes examined her with a mixture of deep concern and relief. "Careful, lass" he hushed. "It's alright, Daenerys. You're alright." Jorah rocked her in his arms, one hand cradling her head and the other rubbing her back- soothing her as one does a child after a nightmare. "You're safe. It's over. The war is over. You took King's Landing. You're in the Red Keep. Everyone is safe." Pressed against his chest as she was, she could hear his heart beating. She couldn't believe it.

"Jorah… But how? You can't… I… don't- it can't be real." Tears filled her eyes and her sobs threatened to choke her. What kind of cruel trick was this? She nuzzled herself deeper into his arms, desperately needing proof that he was real. Proof that he wouldn't disappear leaving her alone again.

"Gently. Don't upset yourself." He placed a cool palm to her cheek.

"Have I gone mad?"

"No, Khaleesi." He almost sounded exasperated.

"But you're dead. I watched you die. It's not possible. Your body was burn-"

"Time enough for that later." Jorah tried to settle her.

"You can't-"

"How are you feeling? Did you hurt yourself when you stood?"

"What? No. How can you-" she was growing increasingly more agitated.

"Khaleesi, please be gentle with yourself. Your injuries are not fully healed. Please." His eyes pleaded with her to believe him.

"I don't understand." Jorah laid her back on the bed, adjusting the pillows so she could sit up more easily. He continued to hold her hand as if knowing she needed the reassurance that he was truly there before her.

"I don't fully understand it myself. There will be plenty of time to explain later. But I swear to you that you are not mad. I am here, Khaleesi. This is real and you are safe. That is all that matters right now." He lifted her bruised hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles to prove his point.

For a moment they sat in pregnant silence. The silence that comes between two people when both have far too much to say. They had always been able to communicate with their silences and shared looks.

_I missed you._

_I missed you too._

"I should go fetch Samwell Tarly. You've been asleep for days. I'm sure he'll want to conduct a more thorough examination of your condition now that you're awake." Jorah moved to stand.

"Please, don't go. I can't lose you again." Panic filled her voice, and she clung even harder to his hand, pulling him back to the bed.

_Never again_, his eyes said.

"I will only be gone a moment, I promise. It's important that he see you while you're awake." At this, he stood from the bed, but not before giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"My memory feels so cloudy. So many pieces seem to be missing. What happened?"

"Unburnt you may be, but invincible you are not," Jorah said with a kind smirk as he fastened his sword belt around his waist. "You fell from Drogon. He caught you before you could hit the ground, but…you gave us all quite a scare." And from the look in his eyes, she could tell her injuries must have been more substantial than they appeared now.

"Only a moment." She nodded her assent as he turned and left the room.

She was alone again, however, the emptiness that had consumed her for weeks seemed to be fading. She had so many questions but did not yet know how to ask them. All she knew was somehow Jorah had returned to her once again.

She prayed to the Old Gods and the New that it wasn't a trick.

* * *

_**Thanks for reading! I anticipate this story will be 5-6 chapters long, but who knows? I promise to explain Jorah's **_**_survival, but it will involve fudging some character arcs a bit. Bear with me as I learn by doing. _**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Jorah returned with Sam sometime later. Daenerys had dozed off again in the time he was gone. Her body felt so heavy and their emotional reunion had used up what little energy she had. Nevertheless, Jorah sat on the bed and carefully touched her shoulder.

"Khaleesi," he whispered. Dany stirred and her eyes fluttered open, not fully registering what was happening. "Samwell is here. He'd like to look at your wounds and ask you a few questions. Do you feel well enough for that?"

"Yes, I think so." Her voice sounded far away, but she wanted to know what exactly was wrong with her.

Jorah looked over his shoulder and motioned for Sam to proceed. While Sam unpacked his instruments, Jorah helped Dany sit up on the bed. When he moved away to make room for Sam, she reached out to grab his hand. He hesitated for a moment, still uncertain about touching her when others were watching. "Please," she said. He took her hand in both of his and sat in the chair next to the bed.

Sam quietly began by unwrapping the bandage on her head. "Glad to see you awake, Your Grace. You gave us all a proper fright. No one more so than Ser Jorah here." Sam nodded in Jorah's direction, provoking a polite smile from the knight.

"Imagine how I feel seeing ghosts." She squeezed Jorah's hand to remind herself that he was there.

"Yes, peculiar that. But I suppose it isn't the first resurrection in our company, is it?" _Jon. Of course._ Sam was right. Jon had been brought back to life after suffering a similar fate. Could the same magic that saved Jon have saved Jorah? Jorah cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with being the topic of conversation.

Sam took the cue and continued with his probing. "The laceration on your head is healing well enough. I think we can leave the bandage off for the time being." Dany was grateful to have the full use of both eyes again. Sam moved on to checking the series of small bruises and cuts on her arms and hands, letting out the occasional sigh or hum. When he moved to press lightly on her ribs, she winced.

"Does it hurt to breathe, Your Grace?"

"A bit," she admitted.

"I see. Fortunately, I think we can rule out any punctured organs, but I suspect that when Drogon grabbed you with his, um, talon he may have accidentally broken a couple of your ribs. But not to worry, you should be good as new in a few weeks." She gave a small nod. Sam then lifted the furs to examine her injured leg. "Hm. Your right ankle appears to be more swollen today than it was yesterday."

"Unsurprising. She stood on it this morning." Jorah added with a hint of disapproval.

"Mhmm. Well, I suppose we can rule out a major breakage then. If it were more than a small fracture or sprain, I doubt you would have been able to stand. We'll keep an eye on it. I'll see if I can find you a crutch of some sort when you're well enough to be more mobile." Sam gave her a warm smile. At this moment, Dany couldn't help but admire the kindness of the young man and his ability to put aside their muddy history and execute his duties with such warmth. After she had executed his father and brother- she shook her head to banish the thought.

Seemingly finished with his assessment, Sam awkwardly pulled a chair up to the end of the bed and took a seat. The mood in the room seemed to change suddenly. Sam looked to Jorah, who nodded for him to go ahead.

"Your Grace, um, if I may be so bold, it's not the injuries from the fall that worry me most. They seem to be healing well enough, although not nearly as quickly as I would expect from someone your age. And…you… you've lost quite a bit of weight since I saw you last in Winterfell. Is there some prior illness I should know about? Something you had before coming to King's Landing?"

"No illness that I'm aware of." It wasn't entirely true. She hadn't really eaten in weeks.

Sam gave Jorah another concerned and uncertain look- had they planned this interrogation? "Your Grace, please. To treat you properly, I need to know the full scope of your health both before and after the battle."

_What are they getting at? _"I suppose I haven't had much of an appetite since leaving Winterfell."

"Why is that?"

"People I lo…people very dear to me were gone. I felt isolated. And I-" Should she say it? Would they think she was being paranoid? "I had reason to believe someone might be trying to poison me." She looked directly at Sam. She wasn't accusing him of putting her in danger, but when Jon's true parentage was revealed, she began to suspect a coup from within her council. "Lord Varys made it clear that he thought I was no longer fit to rule."

_Incompetence should not be rewarded with blind loyalty. As long as I have my eyes, I'll use them._

In his eyes, Daenerys had become a tyrant. Maybe she had...

She continued, "It wouldn't have been the first time he tried to use poison against me." She thought of the wineseller in the market outside of Vaes Dothrak. The pained expression on Jorah's face told her he was remembering it too. "He believed Jon had a better claim. I began to suspect his betrayal not long after we reached Dragonstone. I stopped eating as a precaution." Jorah wiped his face with his hands and stood to pace the room. Sam looked at the floor uncomfortably.

"When his treason was confirmed, I sentenced him to death."

"I see," Sam said. Jorah and Sam shared a knowing glance as if her confession were more a confirmation than a revelation.

A long, tense silence followed. Sam cleared his throat, "You must be very hungry then. I'll have the kitchen send up some stew." With that, Sam stood to gather his things, and with a slight bow, he left the room.

Jorah stood near the fireplace with his back to her. Something was troubling him. What did they know that she did not?

"What are you not telling me?"

Jorah turned to face her. "I'm not sure where to start."

"Tell me who brought you back. Tell me why you're here." He stared at her quietly for a long moment, unsure of how to begin.

"Bran Stark sent me to King's Landing to find you. He said if I did not reach you before the bells stopped ringing-"

Suddenly there was a firm knock at the door.

_Seven Hells._

"Come in," Jorah called, expecting it to be a maid with her dinner. Instead, it was Jon Snow who entered the room.

"Dany." He seemed to be on his guard and took slow steps towards her bed. She wasn't surprised considering how they had left things before the siege. "Sam said you were awake. How are you feeling?"

"Better, I think." As much as she knew she and Jon needed to talk, she was not pleased to have her conversation with Jorah interrupted.

"Have you eaten?" Jon asked awkwardly. _Why are they all so bloody interested in my eating habits?_

"No, I haven't." She said a bit too irritably.

Jorah took a step towards the door, "Sam sent for some stew. I'll go check to see where it is. I'm sure you two could use a moment alone." Daenerys looked over at him with eyes full of questions. His eyes met hers only for a moment. _Later_, they promised. He quietly exited the room.

_Bran Stark sent me to King's Landing_. Bran Stark sent Jorah back to her? It didn't make sense.

Jon looked at her seriously, "How are you really?"

"Confused, mostly. So much seems to have happened while I was ill. I remember burning the Greyjoy fleet. I remember the bells. I remember thinking-" she stopped herself. _I remember thinking everyone deserved to die._ "I remember thinking it was…finally over."

"When the Lannister army threw down their swords, we moved to take the Red Keep. We were able to walk right through the front gates. You and Drogon finished the battle before it could start. Many of our men owe you their lives," he seemed as though he wanted to touch her, but he stopped himself.

_If you only knew, Jon Snow._

"Cersei had no defenses around the Red Keep?"

"Cersei was already dead when we got inside. She was killed by Jaime Lannister. When we took the Keep, we found him with her body in the war room."

"What?" She looked at him in disbelief. The last time she heard mention of Jaime Lannister he had been a prisoner in her camp.

"Jaime claimed he knew he was the only person Cersei would let close enough to do the deed."

"I suppose Tyrion released him before the battle?" Jon simply nodded in response.

"I see." It was all she could think to say.

"Jaime is dying, Dany. He killed Euron Greyjoy as he tried to enter the tunnels into the Keep, but not before suffering grave wounds himself. Sam doesn't expect him to live much longer."

"Someone should send for Ser Brienne. She deserves to say goodbye if she can."

"A raven was sent to Winterfell. She should arrive any day."

"Good. And Tyrion?" She wasn't sure what to make of her Hand. Freeing Jaime had been another betrayal- an explicit disregard of her orders. But she might have done the same in his position.

"He's been drinking more heavily than usual, but that's Tyrion. He helped organize soup stalls in the poorest areas of the city and has already devised plans to rebuild the city walls and infrastructure. I think it's his way of avoiding his grief."

"I understand." And she did. She had been avoiding her grief for as long as she could remember. She pitied Tyrion.

They sat in silence for what seemed like a very long time.

"We've all been worried about you." His face and voice were solemn. He seemed to be avoiding looking at her. Was he really so afraid of what she might do?

"Even you?"

"Of course." Finally, he looked at her. She could see the pain in his eyes. They had both lost so much to get here, and the weight of what was yet to be decided hung in the space between them.

"Jon. Please." She motioned to the chair next to her bed. Tentatively, he accepted it. "After everything we've been through, I think we can be honest with each other."

He smirked, "Yes."

"Good. I know what you must think of me after…the way we left things." Memories of their conversation at Dragonstone flashed across her mind. _There is no love for me here, there is only fear_… "I need to apologize. I understand your hesitation. Your fear even. I was frightened of me too. But I wasn't myself. I can't explain what happened to me. I lost myself-"

"I think I can," Jon interrupted her.

"What?"

"I can explain what happened to you."

* * *

**_Hi all! Thanks so much to those of you who have Favorited/followed this story in the last 24 hours. I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. This chapter was a little less clear in my head - I know where I'm going, I just have to find a way to get there. Right now I'm trying to lay the foundation of the plot I have in my head without completely disregarding canon (looking at you, D&D). So, I hope you enjoy my weird transitional/expository word soup. _**

**_*Also, just in case it's not clear- italicized words/phrases within the story indicate internal dialogue, thoughts, or memories. _**


	3. Chapter 3

**_I don't own anything. Please don't sue me._**

* * *

CHAPTER 3

"I don't understand."

"How much did Ser Jorah tell you?"

Dany hesitated. She didn't know how much Jon knew, but she decided that if anyone was going to understand resurrection, it was probably him. "He said your brother sent him to Kings Landing."

Jon nodded, "And Sam?"

Did they all know what happened to Jorah? Why were they being so damned cavalier about it?

"Sam asked why I hadn't been eating before the siege."

"And?"

She huffed. She was tired of repeating herself. "I thought I might be poisoned. Varys had tried to poison me before. And when he found out about your parentage, I thought he might try again. It was nothing." She didn't understand why they were fixating on this. She was alive. Even if Varys had tried to kill her, he hadn't succeeded.

Jon ran his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner. I should have questioned your behavior right away. But you had lost so much- it would be enough to make anyone vengeful."

_The Mad Queen._

"Jon, I -"

"I shouldn't have told Sansa about my mother and father- at least not until we had taken King's Landing. You would have been safe."

"What? Jon!" She was tired of being the only person who didn't understand what was happening. Why were they all being so cryptic? "I don't know what you're talking about. No one has explained anything to me. Not Jorah, not Sam, and now you. Please. I don't know why this matters. I know how it must have looked-"

Jon stopped her and took her hand. "You were right. Varys was poisoning you, Dany. For weeks, we think. He used your grief as an opportunity to make others believe you were losing your mind."

She looked at him in shocked disbelief, "How do you know that?"

"Tyrion received a letter from Varys after the siege. He must have sent it right before his execution. Its delivery was delayed by the battle. He doesn't confess to poisoning you directly, but he implies that your death would benefit the people of Westeros."

"Do you have the letter? I want to read it."

He pulled out a small scroll and handed it to her.

_Old Friend, _

_Daenerys is a shadow of her former self. It will only be a matter of time before things come to an end. She is a conquerer, and she would take the world with fire and blood. She must be stopped. Jon Snow is just. He will unite the Seven Kingdoms. It is what is best for the realm._

_I know you have done what you think is right. I must do the same._

"I've kept it on me since Tyrion gave it to me. I wanted to talk to you first. I had to be sure."

"Sure of my sanity, you mean." He looked at the floor.

Dany stared at the letter in silence. It was her chance to explain away her darkest thoughts. They were giving her an out. If she had been poisoned then she wasn't like her father. She wanted to believe it. She couldn't forget her thoughts as King's Landing fell. They haunted her. She wanted to believe they were the cause of some malicious substance. But she didn't believe it, and this letter didn't prove it.

"We think he started just after leaving Winterfell. Possibly on the journey to Dragonstone…As soon as he discovered I was a Targaryen."

"You got all that from this letter?"

"No, Varys made his intentions clear to me before he was executed. He made them clear to Tyrion. That's why Tyrion came to you."

She shook her head, "If Varys was poisoning me for weeks, how am I still alive?"

"Sam says there's a poison found in the bellies of certain fish that if given in consistent doses can cause paranoia, hostility, delusions...it's a gradual shift. But it would be enough to make anyone think they were losing their mind…He says it's not uncommon for the victims of this poison to kill themselves in the end."

"But I stopped eating. I was careful."

"The effects could last for weeks if he gave you enough."

"I don't understand. Why not just kill me and be done with it? He had the opportunity, and it certainly would have been easier."

He looked her in the eyes, "He didn't need to kill you outright. He needed to make you look mad like your father- that's a story the other noble houses would believe. He wanted to unite the Seven Kingdoms by giving them a common enemy. Once you'd been overthrown, he assumed you'd do the rest yourself."

"And you would be King."

"Dany. I don't want it."

"But you would have done it."

"You are my Queen. Now and always."

"Yes." _Just your Queen._

The room started to spin and she put her head in her hands. She didn't know what to think. She had suspected betrayal, and she had been betrayed. But this…this seemed impossible. This convoluted plot to overthrow her. To drive her insane- it was all too much.

"Dany, are you alright?"

"I don't feel well suddenly."

He helped her lay back, "I should have waited until you were better to tell you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I needed to know."

"I'll let you rest. Good evening, Your Grace." He stood to leave the room.

"Jon, wait." She knew this wasn't the right time to ask, but she had another question sitting uneasily in her mind, "What do you know of Ser Jorah's…resurrection?"

"Not much more than you, I expect. I doubt he really knows. I know he was dead and now he's alive. I know Bran sent him here and Sam came with him. He saw you fall from Drogon. He was the one that carried you to the Keep. He hasn't said much else, and I haven't asked."

"I don't see how it was possible. We burned the bodies. He should have been ash."

"He should be dead. So should I. Dragons should be extinct. White Walkers should have been a legend. After everything we've seen, is it that hard to believe a man could be resurrected from a funeral pyre?"

She couldn't argue. She had walked into a pyre herself and come out unharmed.

"What's it like? To come back, I mean."

"It's hard to explain. Coming back is…violent. Frightening. Confusing."

"Did you know Bran had such power?"

"No, but there's a lot I don't know about Bran anymore. It could be possible."

She nodded, "How do you think he fits into all of this?"

"I don't know. Lady Melissandre believed we are only brought back when we can serve a higher purpose." He gave an incredulous shrug.

"What is your higher purpose, Jon Snow?"

He gave a small laugh, "I ask myself the same question."

She smirked at him. "And Jorah's?"

He paused and looked at her as if weighing the risk of what he was about to say. "He loved you. He fought for you. He died for you. He came back for you. His purpose seems pretty clear to me." He didn't need to say anything more.

She looked at her hands, "Thank you."

"I'll check in tomorrow. Goodnight, Dany."

"Goodnight, Jon."

* * *

_Dracarys_

_Fire filled the streets and buildings fell around her. Mothers clung to their children. Men ran for their lives. All were eaten by flame. _

_"We will liberate all the people of the world! From Winterfell to Dorne, from Lannisport to Qarth, from the Summer Isles to the Jade Sea, women, men, and children…with fire and blood!"_

_She stood in front of the Iron Throne. The room was dusted with ash and the air threatened to choke her. She reached out to touch the chair and as she did it melted into a red-hot pool at her feet. Slowly threads of burning metal grew up her body like weeds. Inch by inch she felt them sting and mar her skin; wrapping around her body until they consumed her completely. Until there was nothing left of her._

_She called out, but no one came. There was no one left…_

"Khaleesi, I'm here. It's just a dream."

"Jorah," she said weakly.

"Shhhh. It's alright. It's over now." He gently wiped the tears from her face, then turned to retrieve a damp cloth from the bowl on the bedside table. "Your fever is back. I've sent for Sam. He should be here soon." He ran the cloth over her forehead and smoothed her hair.

"No, I'm alright now." She didn't want to seem weak or fragile.

"Then let him look at you for my sake." It wasn't a request.

"Very well then."

He looked at her with a worried expression, "Would you like to talk about your dream?"

"No."

He knew better than to push her. "You should eat something. When I came back earlier you were already asleep. I didn't want to wake you." He stood to grab a tray from the table near the fireplace. "It's just broth. The stew had gotten cold, so I had them bring this in case you woke." He placed the tray on the bedside table and moved to help her prop herself up.

"I'm not very hungry." She was hungry, and he knew it.

He looked at her with a skeptical expression. "Please, Khaleesi. You need your strength. You have a kingdom waiting for you."

"If I eat will you tell me why Bran Stark sent you here?" It was all she had to bargain with.

He smirked, "As you wish."

He helped her get settled and then took a seat on the bed.

"There's a lot I can't explain, and there's even more that I don't know." She nodded for him to continue. "Sam tended to me after I…woke. Most of what I understand about the event, I learned from him. He said they found my body amidst the debris of the pyre."

"Unburnt?"

Jorah only nodded in response.

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know, but I think it could have something to do with this." He untied a small leather pouch hanging from his neck and shook the contents into his palm. Out fell a small red stone.

"What is it?"

"Sam says they found it under the breastplate of my armor- or what was left of it. I thought, perhaps, you had put it there."

Dany rolled the stone in her palm, "No, I don't recognize it. I'm sorry." She handed the stone back to him and he refastened it around his neck.

"No matter." He seemed to be trying to piece things together as he spoke.

"When did you wake?"

"Not long after you left for Dragonstone. I wanted to go after you right away, but Sam said I wasn't strong enough."

"I find that hard to believe, but I suppose being dead would take a toll." She smiled at him, and he gave a low chuckle.

"I have to admit I wasn't a very good patient. When news of the Greyjoy attack on your fleet reached Winterfell…" He shook his head and she could hear the guilt filling his voice, "They should have anticipated an attack. You never should have been so exposed." He paused and looked at her earnestly, "I'm sorry about Rhaegal and Missandei. I can't imagine how you felt, after losing Viserion."

"And you."

They looked at each other in silence.

_Surely you must know how much you mean to me. I was lost without you._

Jorah looked at the floor, "I'm sorry for all of the pain you had to endure alone."

She wanted to tell him that she had died with him- that death had changed her, and she never wanted to lose him again. But she said nothing.

"Why did Bran Stark send you to King's Landing?"

Jorah let out a deep sigh, "Not long after the attack, the boy came to me and told me that I needed to head straight for King's Landing. He said 'A power beyond her control is turning her thoughts dark and vengeful. If you do not reach her before the bells stop ringing, thousands will die and she will be lost forever.' I left for King's Landing that night."

_Thousands will die._

"A power beyond my control…"

"He must have foreseen Varys' plot."

"Or something else."

"Khaleesi?"

She stared at the flames in the fireplace. "Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin and the world holds its breath to see how it will land."

"You are not your father."

She looked at him, "You can't know. You can't know that's not who I really am."

"You're not-"

"I wanted to burn the city, Jorah. I wanted to take Drogon and punish this city for everything it had cost me. That's what Bran meant."

"But you didn't." His expression was almost frightened. Not of her, but for her.

"I might have if I hadn't heard you in the crowd."

"You weren't yourself, Khaleesi."

"Maybe I was. Maybe I was more myself than I have ever been."

"Daenerys, I know your heart. I have seen your compassion. You are not a tyrant."

"I've killed before."

"Never the innocent. Never those you were trying to lsave." He was emphatic.

"A Queen should not consider slaughtering her people."

"Thoughts are not actions, Khaleesi. Don't torture yourself over decisions you did not make."

There was a quiet knock at the door.

"Come in," Jorah said, but his eyes did not leave hers.

Sam entered looking tired and worn, "Sorry I'm late, Your Grace. I was with Tyrion. Ser Jaime just passed."

_Tyrion._ Jon said Varys had made his intentions clear to Tyrion, and Tyrion had betrayed him for it. Maybe Tyrion knew the truth.

"Sam, arrange for a wheelchair to be sent to me. I want to speak with Tyrion."

Both Jorah and Sam began to object, but she raised a hand to silence them. "Now."

* * *

**_This was originally two separate chapters, but it didn't feel like either one quite stood on their own. That means that the next chapter will probably be on the shorter side._**

**_But yeah, I know it seems like A LOT of emphasis on this poison business (considering that in this version of the story she didn't burn an entire city to the ground), but I want to illustrate Dany's internal battle with not really knowing if she was poisoned or if she's going mad. That dilemma will be important in the following chapters. Anyway. Thank you all for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing (even that guy who insulted the Jorleesi fandom. You still read it, dude). I'm just so relieved a handful of you are enjoying it. It's such a huge boost._**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm not thrilled with this chapter, but it had to happen so the plot could move along. You'll notice that it's also my first divergence from Dany's POV. It feels important to me that we not know what's going on in her head for the next couple of chapters. There's also reference to what I consider some of the only redeemable dialogue in Season 8.**

**I promise more Dany/Jorah content in the next chapter- so just bear with me. **

**As always, I don't own Game of Thrones.**

* * *

CHAPTER 4

**JORAH**

"Your Grace," Tyrion swayed slightly as he stood from his chair. "I apologize for my appearance. I wasn't expecting company." His hair was oily, his beard unkempt, and his clothes stale. Ink stained his fingers, as the various plans to rebuild the city decorated the floor below their feet. Standing in the middle of his chambers, Tyrion Lannister looked smaller and more withered than Jorah remembered him. They had seen relatively little of each other since Jorah's arrival in King's Landing. Tyrion had spent his time with Ser Jaime while Jorah had seen to their Queen. However, it was Tyrion who seemed the least surprised when Jorah appeared in the Red Keep on the day of the siege, stating that not even death could keep the man from protecting his queen.

"Mormont," Tyrion nodded warmly.

"Tyrion." He wanted to say more to the shriveled man in front of him, but this meeting was not for them. He looked to Daenerys and waited for her to speak.

As she took in Tyrion's disheveled appearance, a look of pity passed over her features. "I'm sorry for coming so late. I know you probably want some time alone," she said gently.

A tired smile came to Tyrion's face, "Not at all. I welcome the distraction; I've never been one for being alone with my thoughts." He gave a half-hearted wave towards the papers that littered the room.

"So I've heard." She smiled lightly and glanced back at Jorah.

Jorah knelt beside her, "I will be just outside if you need me."

She reached out to touch his hand, "Thank you. I will call when I am ready to return to my chamber." Tyrion had not missed the gesture and Jorah flushed as he stood. He moved behind Daenerys, giving Tyrion a warning look that said '_do not push her' _before leaving the room.

As he stood guarding the door, he caught whispers of their conversation:

_"__I'm sorry about Ser Jaime. The Seven Kingdoms owe him a great debt." _

_"__Yes, from King Slayer to Queen Slayer. What a legacy… My entire life, Jaime was the only one who saw me as more than I was. He saved my life more times than I deserved."_

_"__Then I owe him another debt."_

_"__I find it hard to believe that Mormont let you escape your sickbed to offer me sympathy. What can I do for you, Your Grace?"_

There was a long pause.

_"__Jon showed me the letter from Varys. I need to know the truth."_

Jorah was worried about her and wanted to hear what was said, but his honor prevented him from eavesdropping on his Queen and her Hand. He moved further down the hall to give them their privacy.

He had begged her to rest. She was feverish after a long day of too many truths. She needed sleep, but she insisted on speaking with Tyrion right away. Jorah hoped that he would put her mind at ease.

She was still healing from her fall, and whatever Varys had been slipping her for Gods know how long- but those were just the injuries to her body. What really worried him were the scars he could not see. The wounds she'd been nursing most of her life; the trauma of the deaths that came too quickly, the grief she had yet to face, the sacrifices, the betrayals, the mistakes she had made in her ambition, and the unknown of what was yet to come.

He had died protecting her, and he would do it again if need be. Even if that meant protecting her from herself.

Jorah sat quietly on the stone steps at the end of the corridor, the door to Tyrion's chamber never out of his sight.

* * *

**TYRION **

"I thought he might try to harm you if given the opportunity. It is why I turned him in." Truth be told, Tyrion still missed his oldest friend. He knew he shouldn't. The man had committed treason; he had threatened their queen. But still, Tyrion was sorry he had died a traitor.

"But you don't believe Varys poisoned me?" She seemed agitated, as one might expect.

"I cannot say, Your Grace. Not with any certainty. I wish I could. Simple answers make for clean endings. But life is rarely so accommodating." She had told him of her thoughts during the siege. Poison was possible, he supposed, but no one could ever be sure. Varys was dead, and any proof they could hope for was gone with him. To Tyrion's mind, it didn't really matter. All rulers had bloody impulses, yet she had been able to deny hers when it mattered most.

"When Bran Stark sent Jorah to King's Landing he said something beyond my control was turning my thoughts. How can I rule if I cannot trust my own mind?"

"Maybe it's not so literal?" Tyrion was tired of prophecies and cryptic messages. All that talk of princes who were promised and flaming swords; none of it had mattered when Arya Stark plunged a dagger into the Night King. "I think, perhaps, profound grief is a form of madness that changes us all; making us unrecognizable even to ourselves. You were surrounded by men who could not see your grief for what it was. That was our failing, not yours."

"What if I hadn't heard Jorah in the crowd? What if I hadn't stopped?"

He did not think it was insignificant that a boy who could see the distant past and infinite futures, decided it was more prudent to bring Mormont back from the dead rather than send a raven to the living members of her council. She needed the man…perhaps more than she realized.

"Whatever you might have done, Your Grace, it is not what you did. I don't know if you were poisoned, and don't believe you are mad. You are simply human, for better or worse. And we humans are all capable of great good and terrible evil. Perhaps the Gods flip a coin for all of us, and we must decide where it lands."

"What do you mean?"

"Well...what is it that defines us? What is it that unites us? It is not our titles, our house words, our banners, or our ambitions... it is how we use them. It is our stories. It is the stories that mothers will tell their children centuries from now. That is our legacy, not the mistakes we almost made."

"And what is my story? The Dragon Queen of fire and blood? The Mad King's daughter?"

"Before you were the Dragon Queen, you were an exiled orphan girl on the other side of the world. You came from nothing and became a Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Mother of Dragons, the Breaker of Chains, on and on. **You** convinced men to follow you into battle. The Unsullied, the Dothraki; they followed you, not your dragons. An orphan, a warrior, a conqueror, a liberator, and a Queen. That is your story. That is what you must hold on to."

"What of Jon's story? A bastard from Winterfell, the heir to two great houses, a sworn brother of the Night's Watch, a soldier, The King in the North. He is 'The shield that guards the realms of men.' And he is a man. Whether he wants it or not, as long as Jon lives, he will have the better claim. He is the natural choice for the people of Westeros. He is one of them. They trust him. When they look at me they see the Mad King, but when they look at Jon, they see Eddard Stark. They love him."

"They will learn to love you in time." There in her wheelchair with her silver hair falling loosely around her face, Tyrion realized perhaps for the first time how small she was. The Silver Queen who walked into flame and emerged with three baby dragons was the tiny young woman in front of him. How could they not love her?

"Should they?" She seemed to be asking herself.

"Your Grace?" She was quiet for a long moment. When she finally looked at him, it was as if she had forgotten he was in the room.

"I want you to send a raven to the heads of greatest remaining houses in the nine provinces of the Seven Kingdoms. Tell them their Queen requests their presence in King's Landing…And Tyrion, make sure Bran Stark comes as well."

* * *

**The next chapter will probably be short like this one, but it will be Jorah/Dany centric.**

**Thank you all for reading and reviewing. It really means a lot to me, especially when looking for motivation to overcome writers block and keep telling the story.**


	5. Chapter 5

_**I don't want to over-explain myself here, but basically the next few chapters are just going to get increasingly more fluffy**__**. The next chapter is about 60% written so that will go up in the next couple of days. I hope you enjoy.**_

_**I don't own GoT or Jenny's Song, sadly.**_

* * *

CHAPTER 5

******JORAH**

Jorah took her back to her chambers. He wanted to ask her about her conversation with Tyrion, but she could barely keep her eyes open. He trusted that she would tell him if he needed to know. She seemed less agitated now than she had a few hours prior, but he wasn't sure if it was because she had gained some peace-of-mind or if her body had finally given out with exhaustion.

She winced slightly and seemed to wilt into him as he lifted her from the wheelchair to her bed. She was hot to the touch and a sheen of sweat beaded her face and made her hair stick to her neck. He helped her get comfortable in the bed and went to wet a cloth in the bowl on the bedside table. He was concerned about the rise in her temperature, but Sam seemed confident that it was a result of the strain of the day and not a sign of any danger. Still, Jorah would sleep in the chair near her bed tonight.

He gently ran the damp cloth across her forehead, neck, and down her arms. As he did so, she drifted in and out of sleep. She had gotten so thin, it frightened him. Not even in the Red Waste had she looked so frail. The guilt sat in his stomach like a rock. He knew there was nothing he could have done for her while he was…away. Yet the guilt clung to him anyway.

"Jorah," she whispered.

"Yes, Khaleesi?"

"Can you sing to me?" It was a simple enough request, and if it soothed her it was worth the effort. Quietly, he began to sing Jenny's Song in a low whisper.

"**High in the halls of the kings who are gone…**" Something about the song reminded him of the evening before the Battle of Winterfell; when the night had seemed simultaneously full of hope and dread.

"**Jenny would dance with her ghosts…"**

Truth be told, he had never expected to survive the battle. He was a soldier. He knew each fight could be his last, and they were about to wage war against death itself.

"**The ones she had lost…**"

When the wight plunged the blade deep into his chest he knew it was over, but he would defend her until the end, so there he stood.

_I vow to serve you, obey you, and die for you if need be._

The last thing he remembered was her face. Her fear, her pain, her grief. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to tell her it was alright, that he was sorry to leave her, that she would be a great queen…that he loved her. But the words did not come, and slowly the world faded away into nothingness.

"**…And the ones who had loved her the most…**"

There was nothing after death beyond vast darkness, but somehow, he was aware of the oblivion. It was as if he were waiting for something to happen.

And then it did.

"**The ones who'd been gone for so very long…**"

Suddenly there had been flashes of cold and the smell of ash; then heat and the dim flicker of candles. He had been confused. He woke on a wooden cot thinking he was still fighting. It was Samwell Tarly who calmed him down and told him as much as he knew. He explained that Arya Stark had killed the Night King and ended the Great War, and Daenerys was safely journeying south to Dragonstone with her fleet.

"**Spun away all her sorrow and pain…**"

Sam struggled to explain how Jorah had been brought back to life. He said they had pulled his body, unconscious but living, from the rubble of the funeral pyres. When Sam had stripped him to tend to his wounds, he had found the small red stone he now wore around his neck. Neither man knew its origin, but felt it should be kept safe, nonetheless.

The people of Winterfell had regarded him with suspicion and thinly veiled resentment. He understood their displeasure. Thousands of fathers, brothers, and sons had fallen in the battle. Why had he - a banished knight, of all people- been resurrected while the others remained dead? He hated himself for it. It made him feel ashamed- if the Queen was safe, why had he been brought back? He had done his duty. He should be dead like the others.

**"…through the snow that swept through the hall…"**

Then the news of the Greyjoy attack came. He had never felt so helpless. He attempted to steal a horse and leave Winterfell in the dead of night not two days after receiving the news. It was Bran Stark who had stopped him at the gate.

_"You must not go to Dragonstone," the boy said calmly._

_"She needs help. She needs protection." _Jorah was a patient man, but he would not argue with the boy. Not about this.

_"She does. But you must journey straight for King's Landing. When she takes the Seven Kingdoms, she needs you by her side, remember?"_

_J_orah's breath caught in his throat. _"When I take the Seven Kingdoms, I need you by my side,"_****she had said it when she told him to find a cure.

How could the boy know?

_"Ride hard for King's Landing, Ser Jorah. A power beyond her control is turning her thoughts dark and vengeful. If you do not reach her before the bells stop ringing, thousands will die, and she will be lost forever."_

Sam had insisted on coming with him and Jorah had reluctantly agreed; the lad had saved his life once before, and after coming back from the dead, Jorah was unsure of his body and its limits. They rode hard and fast for King's Landing, speaking little on the way. Jorah was consumed by his need to reach her in time.

"**From winter to summer…**"

They reached King's Landing just as the bells began to ring.

"'**Till the walls did crumble and fall…**"

Jorah dismounted and ran through the streets. He had to get to her. He could see her in the distance; sitting atop Drogon she was hard to miss. It wasn't that far, but the maelstrom of small folk made the streets near impossible to navigate. People screamed, and plumes of smoke filled the air. He was getting closer, but he was running out of time. Even if he did reach her, would she see him? Could she hear him? How was he to get her attention? Any moment the bells could go quiet and all would be lost.

_She will be lost forever_.

_KHALEESI, _he shouted. It was all he could do.

_KHALEESI!_

Suddenly, she looked to the ground frantically searching the bodies below. Gods, she had heard him.

_KHALEESI! _He hoped it was enough.

He called her name again and again. He could see her searching for him in the crowd. Maybe if he could reach the bell tower she would see him- but just as he began to move towards the tower, he saw her wobble and collapse. She fell hard against Drogon's left shoulder and rolled the length of his wing until she slipped from him altogether and fell violently through the air towards the street below.

_Oh Gods._

Mercifully, Drogon swooped down and grasped her in his giant claw. He landed firmly on the ground, hissing at any who came too close to his mother. Jorah approached them slowly and carefully.

_"Let me help her. Please." _Drogon's huge snout got close to Jorah's face, sniffing him. He could feel the dragon's hot breath burning his skin. Then Drogon let out a small whistle of recognition and gave Jorah a hard nudge. _"I missed you too, boy."_ Jorah carefully lifted Danearys' small battered frame into his arms and carried her to the Red Keep.

"**The ones she had lost and the ones she had found…**"

What had followed was over a fortnight of worry and sleepless nights. They couldn't be sure of the full extent of her injuries until she woke, and there had been whispered concerns about her mental state. When Varys' letter arrived for Tyrion,Jorah told them all of Bran's message and they began to slowly piece things together.

"**And the ones…**"

It all seemed so long ago, but it had barely been a week since the siege. Now she lay there in front of him sleeping soundly. Safe.

"**…who had loved her…"**

He was grateful that no one had questioned him about the details of his resurrection. He assumed that after everything they had all seen, they simply accepted that he was there to serve his queen as he had always done.

"…**the most.**"

* * *

He didn't realize he had dozed off until he heard her call out to him. Her eyes were closed, but her face was wet with tears and her nightgown damp with sweat. She thrashed at unseen terrors.

"I'm here, Khaleesi. You're safe." He placed the cool cloth on her forehead and took her hands in his.

She woke with a gasp. Her panicked eyes searched his.

"It's alright, lass. It was just a dream." He wiped the tears from her face. She was trembling.

"It always feels so real," she whimpered.

"Sometimes talking about our fears takes away their power. Would you tell me about the dream?" He wanted her to talk about the things that plagued her mind. He wanted her to know she didn't have to bear the weight of the world alone. "Please?"

She nodded and he helped her sit up and offered her a sip of water. He felt compelled to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he dared not. He simply gave her his full attention and encouraged her to go on.

"It's the same dream every night. First, it's you in my arms. We're in the mud at Winterfell. I try to keep you with me, but you just disintegrate into ash…and then it's Rhaegal's scream…his body falling from the sky…Then Missandei in chains on the gates of King's Landing. That's how she died. That's how Cersei killed her. After years of freedom, she was murdered in chains. They cut her head from her shoulders and shoved her body over the gate. Her last word was 'Dracarys'. She told me to burn them. But I couldn't. I didn't do anything to protect her…" her sobs were catching in her throat. She crossed her arms over her chest to stop her body from shaking.

He couldn't resist anymore. He moved to sit next to her on the bed and pressed her against his chest. She was too young to have seen such horror. He rocked her gently as she went on, wanting nothing more than to take away her pain.

"It is not your fault, Daenerys," he said earnestly, but she seemed not to hear him.

"I hear her say it in my dreams. It's always the same. I'm on Drogon's back and we're taking the city. I hear Missandei's voice, and it becomes my voice…_burn them all_. _High born and low_. And I do. Women scream over the bodies of their children and I feel nothing. Nothing at all. I burn the city until nothing stands. Ash falls from the sky like snow. Then I'm in the throne room, and as I reach out to touch the Iron Throne, it melts and starts to consume me. I call out, but no one comes because all the people I love are dead. They died for me, but there's nothing left of me…"

He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, "Listen now. You are allowed miss those you've lost, but never blame yourself. We all made our choices, Khaleesi. All of us. You did not force us to fight for you. We devoted our lives to you knowing the risks. We did it because we knew your heart. That is what we fought for. I fought and died for the girl that walked bravely into the flames. I fought for the girl who knew her power before anyone else did. That is your strength. Yes, you are the Mother of Dragons, but that is not why Missandei, me, and so many others dedicated our lives to yours. It is your compassion, your kindness, your capacity for forgiveness that I serve. It is everything you are and were before you ever sat atop a dragon."

"I've lost that girl. Jorah. The people of Westeros are afraid me. I'm afraid of me. I'm afraid of what I might have done. I'm afraid of what I could do."

Jorah had never seen her like this; so unsure of herself. He realized then the toll her quest had taken on her. She had been so strong for so long, her grief gone unrecognized for far too long. He finally understood.

"I know your heart, and I know your mind. You have done only what was necessary to get where you are. Many kings have done far worse, with far less remorse. Your legacy is not defined by what you might have done."

She shook her head, "I only stopped because I heard you."

"But you still stopped. No one prevented you from giving Drogon the order. You chose not to give it. You put your vengeance aside to listen to a voice in the crowd. I refuse to believe that is the decision of a tyrant. Your dragons may have helped you take the throne, but they are not what makes you worthy of it. It is your soul. I swear to you here and now that I will never let you forget that."

He looked at her with everything he felt for her written on his face_. I love you. I will always love you._

"Thank you," she said.

Her hand came to rest on his cheek and he instinctively leaned into its warmth.

"Jorah, I…" she said, her hand still on his cheek.

"Yes, Khaleesi?"

"I…" There was something she couldn't bring herself to say. "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" She looked into her lap with an expression that he didn't quite understand.

"Of course."

He supported her head as he laid her back in the bed. Her fever seemed to be breaking, much to his relief. He held her hand until her breath became even and her fingers went slack. He looked at her face while she slept and marveled at everything this the young woman before him had managed to do.

_I will never let you forget who you are._

* * *

**_Thanks so much for reading. There seem to be about 150 of you who read each chapter, if stats are to be believed. Thanks for sticking around while I figure out how to do this._**

**_ Thanks a TON to Silent Wolf Singer, poohbear319, and WolvieLover for reviewing every chapter so far. I really can't tell you how chuffed it makes me. I'm basically writing this story for you guys at this point. _**


	6. Chapter 6

**_Here it is! This entire chapter is just fluff, essentially. Nothing too explicit or smutty. Enjoy!_**

**_I do not own Game of Thrones. _**

**_8/24 - No update. I just edited a typo that was bothering me. _**

* * *

CHAPTER 6

**Jorah**

The next several days passed without incident. When Daenerys' fever broke and Sam assured him she was out of danger, Jorah moved into his own chambers.

As she grew stronger, Daenerys began to hold small council meetings in her chambers- they typically included Jon, Tyrion, Grey Worm, Sam, Ser Davos, and himself. Tyrion had done much in the way of rebuilding efforts and organizing relief for those in the poorest conditions. Grey Worm was named her Master of War- a position they all hoped would be honorary and unneeded- and charged with organizing the Unsullied and Dothraki into a cavalry and Queen's Guard of sorts, with Jorah as her Lord Commander. Ser Davos was named Master of Ships and tasked with reopening sea trade.

"It seems we are still missing a Master of Coin, a Master of Law, and a Master of Whisperers," she looked to Tyrion.

"I will compile a list of names for your consideration and get it to you shortly."

"Thank you. You all may go. Tyrion, one last thing - and Ser Jorah, would you stay for a moment?" The two men nodded, and the others left the room.

She addressed Tyrion first as Jorah moved to to the corner of the room, "Tyrion, has there been any word from the great houses?"

"The Starks, Yara Greyjoy, Edmure Tully, Robin Arryn, Gendry Baratheon, and Quentyn Martell should arrive within the month. In lieu of a Tyrell, Samwell Tarly represents the second most influential house in the Reach, and I- much to my dismay- as the last surviving Lord of Casterly Rock, represent the Westerlands. Together with yourself, we represent the nine provinces."

"Thank you. Please let me know of any changes. That will be all." Tyrion gave a short bow and exited the room.

She sighed heavily. Jorah wanted to know why she had sent for representatives from the great houses. They had pressed her to make arrangements for her coronation, but she had refused saying she would wait until she had met with the other lords and ladies of Westeros. It seemed a reasonable enough request, but Jorah knew she was planning something.

Still, he did not push her.

Her ribs and ankle would not be fully healed for at least another 3 weeks. And although she had taken to walking short spells with a crutch and the grey tinge had faded from her skin, she seemed to tire quickly.

After a long silence he said, "Did you need something from me, Your Grace?"

Her crutch caught the corner of the table as she turned to face him, and she stumbled slightly. Jorah moved quickly to take her arm.

"Are you alright, Khaleesi?"

"Yes, just clumsy," she grimaced as he helped her sit in a chair near the fire.

"What can I do for you?"

Her face flushed slightly, "I was hoping you might join me for supper this evening?"

Jorah was surprised. He couldn't remember the last time they had a meal together, just the two of them. "I'd be happy to."

She smiled back at him, "Until this evening then."

* * *

Daenerys laughed freely over supper, as he regaled her with stories of growing up on Bear Island and tourneys long since forgotten. Jorah couldn't help but laugh with her. He had not seen her smile this much since before Drogo died. He had missed this Khaleesi.

She looked as she had when he first met her. Her hair was pulled back into one simple braid, save the few rebellious strands that framed her face. In her recovery, she had taken to wearing simple gowns that were easy for her to put on. She had yet to take on any handmaids, so she dressed for function rather than fashion. Tonight, she wore a pale lavender frock that tied at her hip. He couldn't help but think the simplicity and color of her dress further highlighted her natural beauty.

"More wine?" She held up the pitcher.

"No, no, unlike Tyrion I'm out of practice with these sweet southern wines. They turn my head."

"I think I should like to see that," she smirked and refilled his cup.

"As you say, Khaleesi."

She sat the pitcher down with an unsteady effort and returned to her chair.

"Khaleesi…not anymore," she looked wistful.

"You will always be a Khaleesi to me."

She smiled at him, "I remember the first time we rode through the Dothraki Sea. Seeing the landscape for the first time. I couldn't imagine anything more beautiful…"

"There's nothing like it in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Do you ever miss it?"

"It doesn't serve us to look back, Khaleesi." The truth was, he didn't know. He often struggled to separate the memory of that time from everything that came before and after.

"You told me once that you prayed for home. Now what do you pray for?"

_You._

"Your long and happy reign."

"Do you ever wonder what things would have been like if I'd never walked into the fire? I'm sure it would have been a simpler path."

"Perhaps, but I've never put much thought to it."

"When I was a little girl, after Viserys and I were smuggled out of Westeros, we came to Braavos first. We lived in a house with a red door. I could see a lemon tree from the window of my bedroom. People were kind…I think it's the happiest I've ever been." She let out a sigh as she stared into the fire, "When was the last time you were truly happy, Ser?"

"I can't remember the last time I was as content as I am now." It was true. So much of their recent past had been an unending onslaught of regrets, challenges, wars, and death. There had been moments of rest, but they had always been fleeting.

She looked at him skeptically, "There must have been one moment in all these years. Tell me."

He sighed. He didn't know how to tell her that every happy moment he'd had since meeting her was because of her. He thought of all the times she had withdrawn from his touch and pushed him away for getting too close, or seeing her too clearly. He was afraid what he had to say would ruin this moment..but she had asked, and he could not deny her anything.

He considered his answer for a moment, "When I was cured."

"How did Sam do it? You've never said."

"It's not a pleasant story."

She had grown quiet and was looking at him very earnestly, "Go on."

He rolled up his sleeve and showed her the remnants of the disease, "Sam had to remove the infection and treat the flesh underneath."

In a tone laced sarcasm, she said, "You were skinned alive and that's your happy memory?"

He smirked at her reaction, "They had given me one day to live. Any cure seemed preferable to death." It was an attempt at a joke- he was trying to lighten the mood, but she had grown very somber.

She looked at him intently, as if she were making an important decision.

She stood then with shaky confidence and crossed the short space between them. Jorah stood and offered her a hand to steady her.

"May I see them? The scars. All of them," she said.

Jorah searched her eyes in disbelief.

He began to protest, "Khaleesi, it's not-"

"Please," she said with a finality he could not argue with.

He nodded and began to remove his cloak and vest. When he reached his tunic, her hands stopped his own.

"Let me." She took a small step back, creating just enough space between them so she could start unlacing his tunic herself. He assisted her in lifting it over his head when she couldn't quite reach. She gasped slightly when she saw the puckered scars that covered most of his torso and abdomen. He searched her face for any sign of fear or disgust; he found none. He saw only remorse written there.

"One day… I never knew it had come so close. I could have lost you and never known." She worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

"No, I wrote you a letter. I would have said goodbye somehow."

"A letter? Do you remember what it said?"

Jorah looked at her for a long time. He did remember.

_Khaleesi,_

_I came to the Citadel in the last hope that the maesters could treat me, as you ordered. Even with all their arts, I am beyond any cure but the grave. I have had a longer life than I deserved, and I only wish I could've lived to see the world you're going to build; standing by your side. _

_I have loved you since the moment I met you..._

"That I was sorry I wouldn't get to live in the world you would create," he said, afraid to say more.

Her face was serious as her fingers lightly grazed his hand, arm, shoulder, neck, and face. It was as if she were committing every scar to memory. The scar on his neck from Qotho's arakh all those years ago, the now barely visible scars on his face from the fighting pits in Mereen, the angry wash of greyscale scars that covered much of his body, and finally, the deep purple scars from the wounds that had killed him- each one taken for her. Each seemed to haunt her more than the last, until tears fell down her cheeks.

Her small hand came to rest gently on the scar over his heart, "I never thanked you for saving my life. Not once."

He covered her hand with his own, "There is no need. I swore you my sword and my life years ago. Do not punish yourself for the sacrifice's others made on your behalf- certainly not mine. Serving you, seeing you succeed; that is what makes me happy, Khaleesi."

It was another declaration of love, and they both felt it.

Jorah looked at the floor, waiting to be dismissed as he always was when he revealed too much of himself to her.

But she did not dismiss him.

"You've given your life away for me countless times. Why?" She reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face

He looked deeply into her eyes, wanting to say so much, "You know why…I would do anything for you, Daenerys."

She kissed him then. Fully and gently. Jorah's hands instinctively went around her waist to support her. But he did nothing more, not quite believing this could possibly be what she truly wanted.

They seemed to remain like that for a very long time; holding each other with the desperation of two people who thought the other might vanish at any moment.

She moved her mouth to the shell of his ear, "Take me to bed."

He took her face gently in his hands, "Look at me…Are you sure? You owe me nothing. I accepted that you couldn't love me a long time ago. I've made peace with that. I don't want you to regret this."

She shook her head and leaned in close to kiss the scar on his chest. "There are times when I look at you and I can't believe you're real."

They were the same words he had said to her in Quarth; the words he had said when he didn't have the courage to tell her he loved her. Now she said them to him.

He kissed her deeply then, pulling her small frame flush with his own.

Daenerys stepped away from him to loosen the string at the front of her dress. It fell open and she shrugged it to the floor in one seamless gesture. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the firelight. Only the bind that Sam had wrapped around her chest to protect her injured ribs remained. Her fingers moved to untie the bandage, but Jorah stayed her hands.

"Leave it."

"Don't you want to see all of me?"

"I do, but if I were to cause you further injury, I would never forgive myself. It will be a reminder to not take things too quickly," he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

He pulled the end of her braid over her shoulder and removed the tie. She looked at him questioningly. He smirked and ran his fingers through the braid, shaking out her mane of silver hair.

"Beautiful," he said.

Jorah picked her up in his arms and carefully reclined her onto the bed, sure to keep his body lifted as to not put too much of his weight on her. His instinct to protect her was not lost even in the heat of the moment.

"You must tell me if I hurt you," he said.

She nodded

He leaned his head into the hollow beneath her ear and kissed a trail to her cleavage- barely visible from beneath the bandage that protected her ribs. He let his breath warm the fabric over her breasts, then moving lower, he kissed the soft skin of her belly. Her fingers wove through his hair, pulling it slightly with each new sensation. Her hips rocked against his own, providing the friction they both craved. He lightly slid the fingertips of his right hand down her body, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. Gently, he rested his hand between her thighs, and slowly pushed two fingers inside her.

"Please, Jorah," she moaned and pushed her hips more firmly into his hand.

"Soon." He moved back to kissing her neck as he caressed her with his fingers. Her breath hitched.

Slowly he kissed her lips, eyes, and temples. Savoring ever piece of her.

"I want you," she pleaded.

He couldn't keep her waiting any longer. He rose on his forearms and positioned himself carefully between her legs. His mouth claimed her lips as he thrust into her.

She sighed his name as her nails slid down the tender skin on his back, causing him to shiver involuntarily.

Their bodies melted together, filling one another until wave after wave of pleasure consumed them both.

He couldn't believe he was in her arms. He would have loved her in silence for the rest of his life, but tonight at least, she was choosing him.

* * *

**_This chapter was much harder to write than I had anticipated. For some reason, writing intimacy between these two makes me feel like I'm intruding on them. Anyway. _**

**_Just so you know, posts will probably happen on Fridays from this point on as I have used all of my prewritten material._**

**_Thanks again to everyone who has consistently read and reviewed. This story has gotten 10 new follows since Monday, which is insane to me. You're all the best._**


	7. Chapter 7

**_I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter, but I've had some aggressive writer's block and other life happenings (my birthday/excessive birthday partying) which made writing this chapter a challenge. _**

**_I am not exaggerating when I say that I wrote probably 5-6 versions of this chapter – not 5-6 drafts, oh no - 5-6 totally unique chapters because I didn't know how I wanted to continue. So, I wish I had a better chapter to post after such a long absence, but this is it. _**

**_I'm starting to understand why D&D began fudging travel times in the end. They're inconvenient._**

**_Anyway._**

**_I don't own GoT._**

* * *

**DAENERYS:**

She lay there sleepily tracing shapes on his chest, her left leg draped over both of his. He was gently running the fingers of his left hand through her hair while his right hand rested lightly on her waist. She knew they had much to talk about, but instead they had been like this for hours, quietly making up for lost time.

She couldn't remember ever making love so tenderly...or for so long. Drogo had been rough and wild. Daario had been cocky and hasty, and although Jon had been gentle and passionate, he was virtually a stranger when they slept together- a coupling born out of mutual attraction and not much else.

But Jorah was different. It was like he could read her mind. Her every desire was answered by his body before she need ask. He had taken his time, paying close attention to how she responded to each sensation. He sent her over the edge again and again; taking pleasure in her pleasure until both were completely spent.

Death certainly hadn't hurt his stamina.

Even so, she felt he had been holding back for fear of hurting her. She found herself even more eager to be fully healed so he could be freer with his passion.

She nuzzled herself closer into his side, tucking her head under his chin. _This is what it is to feel safe_, she thought. She took in his warmth, the steady rhythm of his breath, his scent...she placed a feathery kiss on his neck, eliciting a low, gravely chuckle.

He moved his hand from her waist to her cheek and turned her face to meet his.

"How are you feeling," he said as he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

She couldn't help but smile at his concern.

"I feel fine. You were very considerate." She ran her fingers over the stubble on his cheek.

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a half-smile, "Considerate? I'm not sure that's the endearment I had hoped for after love-making, but I'm glad you were comfortable."

She blushed, "I didn't mean-"

"I know," He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead.

"What I meant was..." She shifted herself to straddled him, "…I look forward to many more evenings like it."

She started to grind her hips against his and leaned down to kiss him deeply, her body wanting his again. He kissed her back like he was afraid he may never get another chance. She would have to do something to reassure him that he would.

She was just starting to run her hands down his chest to the place where their hips met when he suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and sat up so that they were facing each other. She let out an excited gasp at the prospect of this new position, but Jorah did not continue.

His face had changed. He was looking at her seriously. She could tell he was torn by something.

"What is it, Jorah?" She couldn't hide her concern.

He sighed, "Jon Snow."

"What do you mean?"

Guilt and something resembling shame spread across his face, "This was impulsive...I was selfish. Jon is a better match-"

"You…don't know?" Would they really have kept something this important from him?

His eyes searched hers, "Know what?"

"Jon is my nephew," she said matter-of-factly.

"What?" The shock in his expression was almost funny.

"Jon Snow is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark."

He lifted her from his lap, placing her gently on the bed. He stood to roughly pull on his discarded tunic and started to pace the room. "How do you know?"

"Well, it's my understanding that Samwell Tarly found an account of a marriage between Lyanna and Rhaegar in the Citadel. He told Jon before the battle with the dead. I'm surprised Jon didn't tell you himself. Or Tyrion. They seem to have told everyone else in the Seven Kingdoms."

He rubbed his face with his hands, " When they said Varys thought Jon had a better claim, I assumed it was because he was Ned Stark's son, or the King in the North…I never considered…How could I have been so blind?"

"I don't expect a proposal anytime soon." She was trying - and failing- to defuse the situation.

"I'm the Captain of your Queen's Guard. I'm supposed to protect you. Why was I not told?" His tone had shifted from that of lover to long-serving commander.

"Perhaps they thought I told you."

She was surprised by how insignificant the information seemed to her now. The burden didn't seem as heavy as it once had. She had made up her mind…it was only a matter of time before everything resolved itself.

Still, she could see the worry bubbling up inside of him. "Who else knows about this?"

"Sam told Jon, Jon told his sisters, Sansa told Tyrion, Tyrion told Varys. Who knows who Varys told."

He stopped his pacing and turned to face her. His expression was grave, as if he had just realized the extent of the betrayal.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace."

"What for, _Ser_?" His sudden formality had not gone unnoticed.

"I know you were in love with him." He looked at the floor.

"I was." _I thought I was. _

She tucked the sheet around herself and went to where he stood. She was tired of talking about Jon Snow.

He closed the distance between them and took her right hand in both of his. He looked at her with a disheartened expression.

"Now what's wrong?" She found herself getting a bit annoyed. Couldn't he see that all she wanted right now was him?

"This cannot… We shouldn't continue." The longing in his eyes betrayed his words.

"I don't see why not."

"Daenerys…as long as I share your bed, I am a liability to you. You need to be free to make alliances."

"Jon and I do not want to continue the Targaryen family tradition."

"There are other suitable choices. Perhaps Gendry Baratheon?"

"You are the son of a lord. How are you less worthy than Robert Baratheon's bastard?"

"I am an old, exiled knight with no lands or titles. If anyone threatened your claim, I could not help you hold the Seven Kingdoms."

"Then I restore you the title of Lord of Bear Island. Here and now."

He shook his head, "Even so, the minor lord of a remote holdfast does little for you. You need someone who can help you maintain a good relationship with the other houses, particularly in the North… Ned Stark wanted my head. Sansa Stark will not have forgotten that."

"You died defending the people of Westeros. You've paid your debts."

"Yes, and while other loyal Northern men stayed dead, I was resurrected. Sansa Stark will not soon forget that either. Peace with the North is vital to peace in the realm."

She placed her free hand on his cheek, "I am tired of my heart being used as a pawn in this game of thrones. I did not break chains only to forge my own in the process." Besides, she had a proposal for Sansa Stark that she doubted the lady wolf would refuse.

"Khaleesi-"

She claimed his lips with her own to stop his mouth. She would hear no more of this.

"Just trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"Daenerys, this is important-"

She placed her fingers over his lips and looked directly into his eyes. She marveled at the man in front of her. This man who loved her so deeply. This man who had stood aside for years while she loved others; he would do it again if he thought it would help her. He had devoted his life and his heart to her no matter the personal cost.

"I love you," she said. He looked as if she had struck him.

"I love you, Jorah. I will not lose you again."

He took her in his arms and kissed her hard. She knew he had waited years to hear her say it; never believing she would.

He cupped her face in his hands, "I love you more than my life; never doubt that. But-" She kissed him again.

She untucked the sheet and let it fall to the floor. "Then stop arguing and just love me."

Soon she would explain her motives. Soon they would all understand. Soon, but not yet.

* * *

**_Hopefully you're all still interested in this story even though it's been a minute since my last post. I promise to try to get the next installment out sooner. _**

**_Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing- and a special welcome/thank you to _****_Seastar21 and sunshine and lollipops_****_._**

**_Also, _****_sunshine and lollipops writes some of the most cinematic Jorleesi fics out there, so if you don't already, you should definitely read her stuff!_**


	8. Chapter 8

I don't own GoT.

* * *

CHAPTER 8:

TYRION:

Tyrion was tired. His body ached from over-work and a lack of sleep. But he couldn't stop. If he stopped working, he would have to start feeling. He wasn't ready for that.

Fortunately, he had been keeping himself occupied- or rather, their Queen had been keeping him occupied.

This clandestine meeting with the great houses of Westeros had the whole of the Red Keeping in a state. There was much to be done in the way of readying the Keep for their guests. He didn't know what she was planning, and as her Hand as well as the head of a great house…not knowing was worrisome.

And then there were the empty seats on her council to be filled.

He thought he might suggest Bronn for Master of Coin. It would take some convincing as Daenerys likely wouldn't be too keen on the idea, but he didn't have a better option. Besides, he felt a man as obsessed with having money as Bronn would be unlikely to bleed the Realm dry.

He felt Ser Brienne should serve as Master of Laws. Not only was Brienne a great warrior, but she had more honor in her little finger than most men had in their entire beings. She had the most well-developed sense of justice he'd ever seen. He believed she would execute the role more nobly than any other choice. However, she was still pledged to Sansa Stark, and he doubted she would accept the role without her Lady's approval.

It was the role of Master of Whisperers that was stumping him. He knew of no one with the kind of insight needed to manage the secrets of the Seven Kingdoms. The Queen would never agree to the likes of spies. They needed someone loyal and without personal ambition. Someone who could see the full scope of a potential threat without fear of treason.

They needed Bran Stark.

Someone who could see the future would be useful when it came to maintaining peace in the Realm. Would the boy accept it? If he did, would Sansa let him go? Would Daenerys accept another Stark into her personal circle?

He needed to speak to the Queen. He felt odd going to her at this time of night, but he knew neither of them had been sleeping much as of late. He grabbed a decanter of wine and two cups and headed towards her quarters.

As he approached her door, he found it odd that there were no Unsullied standing guard. Had she dismissed them? If so, why?

Tyrion raised his arm to knock, but the voices he heard inside caused him to pause.

He had not expected to hear Mormont in the Queen's chambers at this hour. He could hear their exchange through the door. They were making no effort to muffle their voices, likely assuming no one else would be up and wondering the halls at this time of night. They sounded as if they were having a lover's quarrel.

_"I don't see why not."_

_"Daenerys…as long as I share your bed, I am a liability to you. You need to be free to make alliances."_

So… it was as he suspected. He had noticed subtle changes in their relationship for weeks- hesitant, intimate gestures and lingering looks- but hadn't been sure of their meaning until now.

It wasn't unexpected, he supposed, but it was significant, nonetheless.

_"I am an old, exiled knight with no lands or titles. I cannot help you hold the Seven Kingdoms."_

_"Then I restore you the title of Lord of Bear Island. Here and now."_

_"Even so, the minor lord of a remote holdfast does little for you. You need someone who can help you maintain a good relationship with the North… Ned Stark wanted my head. Sansa Stark will not have forgotten that._"

Correct, he thought.

_"You died defending the people of Westeros. You've paid your debts."_

Also a fair point.

_"Yes, and while other loyal Northern men stayed dead, I was resurrected. Sansa Stark will not soon forget that either. Peace with the North is vital to peace in the realm._"

Indeed. Their Queen certainly seemed to prefer gloomy, undead warriors.

_"Khaleesi-"_

_"Just trust me. I know what I'm doing._"

Perhaps she did know what she was doing. Gods know plenty of kings throughout history have taken lovers. Why shouldn't a queen? There was no harm in seeking a little pleasure.

_"I love you. I love you, Jorah. I will not lose you again._"

However, that could be a problem…

_"I love you more than my life; never doubt that."_

_"Then stop arguing and just love me."_

The sounds that followed were unmistakable, making even Tyrion feel embarrassed. He moved away from the door and started back towards his chambers. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and poured himself a cup of wine. He needed to digest what he had just heard.

He didn't know what to do with this new information. They all knew Mormont loved her, but what did it mean for the Realm if she loved him?

True, it wasn't an ideal match. But again, Tyrion didn't believe that Bran Stark had seen the future and decided that Jorah should be brought back from the dead just to serve in her Queen's Guard.

Then again, Mormont was right. Any potential threat from the North would make Daenerys' claim vulnerable, and an advantageous marriage would make her more secure. But was the North even a potential threat? It troubled Tyrion that he didn't know the answer.

Lady Stark had grown into a formidable ruler; she was sure, measured, and unyielding as Wardeness of the North. However, years of violence, betrayals and manipulation had made her distrustful of outsiders. And to Sansa Stark, Daenerys was an outsider.

Even if the North was granted independence, would it be enough now that Sansa knew Jon was the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms? He didn't believe Sansa to be malicious…but she had learned much from Cersei and Littlefinger.

Sansa Stark was loyal to her people and her family above all, and Tyrion feared that Lady Stark saw their Targaryen Queen as a threat to both.

* * *

JORAH:

Jorah woke as the morning sun broke through the window, casting bright yellow streams of light across the room. He rolled to his side and looked at the small figure still sleeping quietly beside him.

She looked so peaceful. The morning light washed over her pale skin and silver hair giving her an otherworldly luminosity.

Gods she was stunning.

He had never truly believed that they would spend a night in each other's arms. Yet, here he was waking up in her bed. They had filled the night with soft moans and whispered endearments.

She said she loved him. It seemed too good to be true. He had conditioned himself not to hope for such things from the women he loved- never daring to believe they might love him back.

But she said she loved him and he believed her.

He knew it was unwise. He could offer her his love and his guidance, but not security on the Iron Throne. It might have been enough if they were two different people.

But they were not.

She was his Queen first. He must never forget that. Certainly no one else would forget it.

She began to stir. Without opening her eyes, she reached out for him. He grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on her palm. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled when they found his face.

"Good morning," she yawned.

"Morning." He rubbed circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

"You look tired."

"Well, I was up all night serving my Queen," he gave her a wry look and she giggled.

"I couldn't have asked for a more diligent Lord Commander." With this she leaned in and kissed him.

"Speaking of which, as your Lord Commander, I do have duties to perform. I should go." He kissed her once again and then stood to dress.

"Now? The sun's just come up."

"I shouldn't be seen leaving your chambers when the others wake."

"I'm not concerned with the opinions of others."

"I know...but we should still be discrete for the time being.

"If you insist."

She watched him dress.

"Will you join me again this evening?"

"If you'd like me to, it would be my pleasure," he said.

"And mine as well, I expect." She smirked.

"Tonight then."

He kissed her goodbye and exited her chambers. He hurriedly descended down the spiral steps that led to the main corridor of the Red Keep. At the base of the stairs he saw a most unexpected sight; Tyrion Lannister asleep on the bottom step. As if Tyrion had heard him coming in his slumber, the small man lurched awake.

"Mormont! Come have a drink with me. Or don't drink and just watch me do it. Either way, we need to talk."

* * *

_**Thanks for reading! I couldn't ask for more generous and supportive readers. You're all absolutely brilliant.**_

_**I just want to say that I have no intention of abandoning this story. I've just run out of my pre-written material so it takes me a bit to form chapters I'm satisfied with posting. Stick around because I promise to finish it.**_


	9. Chapter 9

**_My working title for this chapter was "When Men Meddle" - I think that really explains just about everything you're about to read._**

**_Also, love is SUPER irrational and I think very few of us are prepared to accept love from others without assuming the other shoe is about to drop. SO. I hope you enjoy._**

**_(Also also, my laptop stopped working this week so this entire chapter was written in the notes section of my phone. I apologize in advance for inevitable typos.)_**

**_I don't own GoT._**

* * *

Chapter 9

JORAH:

Why had Tyrion been asleep in the stairwell leading to Daenerys' rooms? What did he know? What had he heard? Daenerys said she didn't care what the others thought, but Jorah had to. This did not sit well with him.

Jorah followed Tyrion to his chambers. When they arrived, he couldn't believe the state of Tyrion's quarters. Multiple books lay open on every available surface. Wine stains covered half-written letters on his desk. Parchment littered the floor. Discarded clothing lay in a small piles around the room. Everything appeared to be in utter disarray- save the bed, which looked as if it had not been slept on in days.

As much as Jorah wanted to get to the point of their meeting, he couldn't help but cast a concerned glance in Tyrion's direction.

"Don't look at me like that. I can accept pity from just about anyone, but not you. From you I expect a long, reproachful look and a firm punch in the face. That's the Mormont way, remember?" Tyrion gave him a sad smile.

It was easy to forget just how much they had all lost on their respective journeys. Jorah rested a heavy hand on Tyrion's shoulder, "Best not to confuse pity with empathy. Speaking from experience, it can be very isolating."

"Wise words from an old man," Tyrion smirked.

Jorah rolled his eyes, "Have it your way then. Is there a point to this meeting? I have work to do."

"Yes, but first-" Tyrion grabbed a pitcher from his desk and filled the two cups he held- presumably from the night before- shoving a full cup into Jorah's hands, "A toast-"

"It's a bit early." Jorah looked at the liquid questioningly.

Tyrion held his cup out in Jorah's direction, "There's the reproach I've been waiting for. As I was saying: A toast to the last surviving members of two ancient houses. May the Gods have mercy on us both." Tyrion drained his cup while Jorah took a small sip and returned his to the desk. It hadn't occurred to Jorah before, but Tyrion was right. There they stood, the last surviving male heirs to houses Mormont and Lannister. How disappointed their fathers would be.

Tyrion gestured to the ornate chair next to the fireplace, then he pulled his own desk chair over to meet it. Jorah sat and watched Tyrion in silence, still unsure of his purpose here.

Tyrion sat heavily, facing Jorah. "I'm glad you didn't stay dead, Mormont. Truly." Tyrion looked at Jorah, and for the first time, there was no hint of mockery in his expression. "How did it happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your miraculous resurrection. How did Bran Stark manage it, do you think?"

"I'm not sure..." Jorah hesitated. Tyrion had the most brilliant mind Jorah had ever known; perhaps he would have the answers no one else did. Jorah removed the leather pouch from around his neck and tossed it to Tyrion. "Sam found that on my body when they pulled me from the ashes. Do you recognize it?"

Tyrion shook the small stone into his palm and held it up to the light. "It's not something I recognize."

Jorah couldn't hide the hint of disappointment in his voice as he reached for the stone, "No matter."

"Unless…no, it couldn't be," Tyrion eyed the stone suspiciously.

"What?"

"In Meereen…the Red priestess, Kinvara, wore a stone like this. So did Lady Melisandre, if I recall correctly." Tyrion continued to turn the stone between his fingers.

Jorah leaned forward, "That makes no sense. Why would the Red Woman's ruby end up with me? I don't practice her religion."

"I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with Daenerys? Melisandre thought Daenerys was, quote, 'The Princess Who Was Promised.' While Kinvara said she was 'born of fire to remake the world.' Now you are born of fire too, I suppose. Perhaps someone with knowledge of the stone's power knew what they were doing when they left it on you." Tyrion gave Jorah a faraway look, as if he were realizing something which hadn't previously occurred to him.

Jorah looked at the stone as Tyrion turned it in his hand, "I saw the Red Woman ride up on the battlefield. She told me to have the Dothraki lift their swords and then she lit their arakhs ablaze with her magic. She nodded to me before she rode away, and for a moment, it gave me hope that we all might live."

Tyrion nodded somberly, "Only trouble is, the Red Woman died before we lit the pyres. Davos said she turned into dust as the sun came up. There's no way she could have hidden it on you herself." Tyrion put the stone back in its pouch and passed it to Jorah who secured it around his neck once more. "Sorry I can't be of more help."

"Perhaps it's meant to stay a mystery." Honestly, he tried not to think about his death too much. It made him feel less human in a way. Less like a living, breathing man and more like the dead they had fought so hard to destroy.

"What's it like? Is there life after death?" Tyrion asked quietly.

"Not that I've seen…I'm sorry." Jorah knew why he was asking, "Ser Jaime…was a fierce warrior."

"Oblivion is probably the best any Lannister could hope for after what we've done." Tyrion stood to retrieve the pitcher of wine from his desk, but when he moved to refill his cup Jorah placed a firm hand over it.

Tyrion sighed deeply, "Very well then. To the point." He put the pitcher down and returned to his seat. "It seems you are now the second undead hero our Queen has loved."

Jorah tensed. This was the conversation he had feared it would be, "As a longtime friend and trusted advisor."

Tyrion cast him and incredulous look, "Please Mormont, you insult my intelligence."

Jorah shifted in his chair, "I don't know what you've heard, but eavesdropping on the Queen-"

Tyrion interrupted him, "I would advise that when arguing with one's romantic partner, it is best to keep your voices low."

_Damn him._

Jorah moved forward suddenly and grabbed handfuls of Tyrion's tunic, but Tyrion threw up his hands in a gesture that signaled surrender.

"Wait! Before you beat me bloody, listen to what I have to say. I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize her reign."

"You betrayed her trust before," Jorah said a bit too loudly.

"I did. So did you. Fortunately for us our Queen is forgiving."

Jorah released him, and stepped back.

Tyrion groaned, "When I said I wanted you to hit me, I was being hyperbolic." He halfheartedly adjusted his now rumpled tunic, "Now, before you lose your head, know that I'm not fundamentally against it..."

Jorah looked at him coldly, not trusting what Tyrion was about to say. "What did you hear?"

Tyrion smoothed his beard, "You know, you are perhaps the only soldier I have ever met who can cut as fatally with a glance as you do with a blade."

"What did you hear?" Jorah whispered again through gritted teeth.

"I heard her say she loved you."

That was it, then. Jorah's stomach sank. He knew it had been too good to be true.

Jorah sighed, "If you've brought me here to tell me you think it's unwise, I already know."

Tyrion waved his hand, "I know you do. I heard that too. Let me ask you, if it weren't you she had taken to her bed; if it were some other exiled knight- some other, much older exiled knight- how would you advise her?"

"I would advise against it. Just as I did last night." Jorah moved to lean against the back of his chair, finding that he was too anxious to sit.

Tyrion continued, "Sensible. Now, what if she told you that she had fallen in love with a man who had served her faithfully for many years. A man who had risked his life for her numerous times. A man who literally died for her, only to be brought back from the dead to serve by her side once more. What would you advise her to do with that man?"

"What are you saying?"

Tyrion stood to refill his cup and this time Jorah did not stop him, "I'm saying you present an unusual problem. You are both her best and worst option, and I need to know what it means for the realm."

Jorah shook his head, "She just wants something safe and familiar after everything she's been through. It will pass. She still loves Jon Snow. She denies it, but I can see it in the way she talks about him."

Tyrion let out a sarcastic chuckle, "Then perhaps you should have Samwell Tarly check your sight. She's paid almost no notice to Jon since you returned to her side. Any love you see between them is a projection of your own insecurities."

"Did you bring me here to insult me?"

"No, but for such a clever man you are being willfully blind. When you died, it changed her- and not for the better. When she was ill, it wasn't Jon Snow she called for in her sleep. It was you. She does love you." Tyrion looked at him seriously, and Jorah knew he meant what he said.

Jorah ran his hands through his hair, "What do you want me to say? You said yourself that I couldn't stand by her side when she took the Seven Kingdoms. You just said I pose a problem to the realm."

Tyrion pinched the bridge of his nose, "Look, I cannot ignore the fact that you took a blade to the heart for her and were subsequently resurrected- either by a boy who can see infinite futures or a fire deity- to return to her side. Clearly you have a purpose, and I don't have a rational argument against magic. There's no doubt she needs you. However, I cannot pretend that a man twice her age with no significant lands, titles, or wealth is an ideal consort for the Queen."

"You are making rather grand assumptions about the depth of her affection for me." Jorah returned to his seat.

Tyrion let out an exasperated sigh, "And you are desperately oblivious if you think her feelings for you are a passing whim." Tyrion gave him a pointed look, "But nevertheless, let us consider the first possibility: you stay with her, you marry, you rule by her side. You're both decent, compassionate people. It's a pretty picture for peacetime."

"But?"

"But let us consider the other possibility. You marry leaving her exposed to opposition from the other noble families- namely the North, but both house Tully and house Arryn would bend the knee to a direwolf before they would a dragon or a bear. We have to assume that many- if not all of them- know about Jon's true parentage-"

"Thanks to you."

"Yes. I allowed myself to be manipulated by Sansa Stark. Therein lies my concern. Sansa is not vicious, but she is fiercely protective of her lands, her people, and her family- that includes Jon Snow. She's also remarkably skilled in this game that we play. It would make her a terrible enemy if she chose to be."

"Do you really think Sansa Stark would thrust the North into another war over the Queen's choice of bed partner?"

"No, Sansa's not a fool. But like you, I think an advantageous marriage offers Daenerys security that she doesn't currently have. It's part of what made Jon an ideal match. A union between Stark and Targaryen would have tempered the legacy of the Mad King for the people of Westeros and tied the largest province in the Seven Kingdoms directly to the throne."

"You're forgetting one important piece of this puzzle. Jon himself. Even if he no longer harbors romantic interest for Daenerys, he doesn't want to be King. He wouldn't allow Sansa to start a war with Daenerys over a throne he does not want."

"That's true, but he didn't want to be King in the North either. In my experience 'want' often has little to do with who sits on the Iron Throne. King's are merely pawns for better players to move about the board. Sansa knows Jon would grant the North its independence- something she wants badly and something Daenerys refused to do. What is more, Jon would not fight against Sansa if it came to war. He would not fight against the North. And, as a male heir, he has a better claim. Jon Snow presents a major complication. Daenerys cannot rule in absolute security as long as the shadow of Jon Snow's lineage looms over her."

Jorah stood once more and paced the length of the room, "Daenerys risked everything to defend the North- to defend Westeros- against the army of the dead."

"Yes, and when the battle was done it wasn't Daenerys they praised, it was Jon, remember?" Jorah looked at him blankly, "Oh, no. Of course. You were...absent. My point is, the unfortunate reality is even the people Jon pledged to her when he bent the knee do not consider her their queen. If our allies won't enthusiastically support her, who will?"

Jorah rubbed the whiskers on his chin roughly, "Must she spend the rest of her life sacrificing personal happiness for a crown she has already won simply because you fear a handful of nobles might prefer Jon on the throne?"

Tyrion returned to his chair and sipped from his cup, "Every war ever fought has been because a handful of nobles wanted someone else on the throne. But you're right. This could all be completely contrived. I could be preparing for a threat that does not even exist. Trouble is, I can't say with any certainty and her reluctance to share any of her plans makes my job nearly impossible."

Jorah turned to face Tyrion, "You mean this meeting with the Great Houses?" In truth, this meeting had been troubling them all.

"I mean all of it. This meeting, yes. But also the delay of her coronation, her reluctance to hold any kind of public audience with her people- I don't think she's set foot in the throne room since taking the Keep."

"She's been ill."

"Perhaps it is that simple. But...she said something to me when she visited me the night Jaime died. I told her that the people of Westeros would grow to love her in time, and she asked me if they should. I fear...I fear she may no longer want to be Queen."

Jorah shook his head in disbelief, "That's impossible. All she's ever wanted is to change the world for the better."

Tyrion went on, "And she has done just that. She helped defeat the army of the dead. She decimated Euron Greyjoy's fleet. She ended Cersei's chokehold on the people of Westeros. But, in all the time I've served her, I've only seen her defeat her enemies. She knows she can conquer, but does she have the confidence to rule?"

Jorah felt very defensive suddenly, "She led the Dothraki through the Red Waste. She led the Unsullied across the Narrow Sea."

"Is leading armies ruling?"

"She ruled in Mereen."

Tyrion made a slightly pained expression, and wobbled his hand, "Impulsively, clumsily, and briefly. Some leaders are made to conquer while others are made to maintain the peace. She's compassionate. She could be a great queen, but not if she's not strategic. And certainly not if she no longer wants it."

Jorah knew she wanted it. She had to want it, or what had been the point? "All she's wanted for as long as I've known her is to break the wheel; to offer freedom to those who do not have it."

"Precisely. She wanted to liberate the people of Westeros, but the small folk aren't in chains. They're poor and hungry. They need a steady ruler now, not a warrior Queen."

Jorah shot Tyrion a cold look, "It sounds like you don't want her to rule."

Tyrion looked genuinely insulted, "Do you think I would have done everything I did if I didn't want to see Daenerys on the throne? But someone has to consider each possible outcome. That is what I'm doing. We cannot become so consumed by our idolatry of her that we lose sight of reality. The small folk do not yet trust her and the nobles do not yet support her. She is vulnerable whether we choose to acknowledge it or not."

Jorah knew he was right. The same fears had plagued his mind, "What would you suggest?"

Tyrion shrugged, "Perception is reality. She's still a stranger to the people of Westeros. They see her as the Mad King's daughter. Right now she is more usurper than savior. House Greyjoy might bend the knee to her, but the North would rally behind Sansa Stark or Jon Snow far more readily than they would Daenerys. It's important to align her with powerful allies."

"What would you have me do?" Jorah sat heavily. He had only been awake for an hour or so, but he suddenly felt very tired.

"First you need to convince her to offer independence to the North."

"I advised her to make peace with Sansa once before. Evidently it didn't work."

"She might be more inclined to listen to you now, if you understand my meaning...Which brings me to my next suggestion...She needs you by her side, but you must convince her to purse another companion."

The two men looked at each other, both understanding all too well what was being asked.

Jorah looked at the floor, "It wouldn't be the first time I stood by while she loved other men. But the harder I push it, the harder she'll fight against it."

"Not if she believes it's what you want."

Jorah felt his heart break, "It is the farthest thing from what I want."

Tyrion gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "The longer you wait, the harder it will be to let her go."

Jorah closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, gathering himself. "If that's all, I'll be going."

Tyrion gave a him a nod. Jorah then stood silently, and left the room.

He leaned against the wall of the corridor considering what he must do. Somehow he had to convince the woman he loved that she must love someone else. Would he have the words to say what needed to be said? Would he have the power to resist her when all he wanted was to have her in his arms? He had built a wall around his heart once before, but could he do it again knowing that she loved him?

* * *

_**This chapter really took on a life of its own, but I think we can all agree that one of the themes for the last few seasons of the show could have been "Dudes Making Bold Assumptions" so I feel like it tracks.**_

_**As always, thank you for reading. I have to go out of town for work this week so there will probably be a big gap between postings, but hopefully the next couple of chapters will make up for the delay.**_


	10. Chapter 10

**_Hi! I'm so sorry for a two month absence. My only explanation is that life happens and it has been an incredibly busy two months AND my laptop is still broken...which make everything harder because I no longer have access to my original drafts._**

**_This chapter is admittedly clumsy, but it's something. I hope you all enjoy._**

**_I don't own GoT. _**

* * *

Chapter 10

_She was in the Red Keep, once again standing in front of the Iron Throne. The roof of the throne room appeared to have collapsed, yet the throne still stood, unmarred by the chaos around it. Through the gaps in the walls, she could see __the streets of King's Landing. All around her buildings fell and bodies smoldered in a sticky mixture of mud, ash, and burnt flesh. The air was thick. The smells choked her. Fire burned, but the wind was freezing and smelled of death. _

_Unlike before the throne did not melt into a molten pool at her feet; instead the throne appeared to be made of ice. Her hand shook as she reached out to touch the frozen chair. As her fingertips made contact with the glassy arm, the throne shattered into a thousand icy fragments, and disappeared in a puddle on the floor._

_Snow and ash began to fall from the sky in dense flakes covering the ruins of the city, snuffing out the fires, and hiding the gore under a layer of pure white._

_She heard footsteps behind her, and as she turned to see who it was she felt an abrupt pain shooting through her chest. Gasping, she grabbed wildly for the area which now bloomed with blood. She stumbled and fell to the ground. She searched for her assailant but they were no where to be found. The world around her faded to black, and she heard a dragon scream over head..._

Daenerys woke with a start. She had dozed off while reading by the fire in her chambers. She looked towards the window and the sky told her it must be late afternoon, almost evening.

She needed to get out of this room.

She was trembling as she tied her dressing gown around her waist and exited her chambers.

* * *

JORAH

Standing outside her door, Jorah felt like a coward. He hesitated to knock, wanting desperately to spend a little more time in the memory of their night together- this union which had taken so long to manifest and now would be over before it could really begin. He had avoided her all day by keeping himself busy in the barracks, but he had promised to join her again this evening and could no longer delay the inevitable.

He loved her. She said she loved him. Was that really such a terrible offense? He knew he was an unwise choice. He had thought it himself this morning. And it was true that Sansa Stark felt no warmth for Daenerys, and the North could be a powerful enemy. But was Daenerys' love for him a true threat? She had taken the throne against impossible odds. Could loving a man below her station truly be enough to inspire unrest?

In his experience love was unpredictable and often fleeting. This, too, might pass. And even if it did not, he believed he could make her happy. Didn't she deserve some happiness after everything she'd been through? Why should he and Tyrion assume her intentions? Neither of them knew what her true plans were. Then again, perhaps that was the problem.

It seemed that he was not simply a bad option, but that Jon Snow was the only option to preserve an alliance with the North.

So, there he stood at war with himself.

He took a deep breath, raised his arm, and knocked.

There was no answer.

He knocked again.

Again, there was no answer.

He tentatively pushed the door to her chambers open.

"Khaleesi?"

She was not there. The only light in the room was the evening sunset which cast pale orange and purple shadows through the window.

He was the captain of her Queen's Guard. He was responsible for knowing her whereabouts at all times. If he had not been notified of her location, it was because she did not want to be followed. He feared she may have taken Drogon to fly when she was no where near well enough. If she had tflown and lost her seat...

He rushed to the window to see if he could see them in the sky.

To his relief, there was no dragon in the sky, but there was one sleeping in the outer yard...

He knew then where she had gone.

* * *

He pushed the great door to the throne room open and saw her standing at the foot of the steps leading to the Iron Throne, looking up at it in a mixture of wonder and fear.

"Hello there," he said gently.

She didn't respond. She continued to look forward in a daze. He moved toward her, quietly.

"Khaleesi?"

He stopped slightly behind her. He didn't want to startle her. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and she wore her dressing gown over her night gown, her crutch tucked under her arm, and a book held tightly in her right hand.

She glanced back at him, "Jorah?"

"Are you alright? I hadn't expected to find you here."

"I've never been in here. In all of the weeks I've been in the Keep, I'd not set foot in this room...but I've dreamt about it." She turned her eyes back to the throne.

"Is it as you had imagined?"

"It's smaller than I thought it would be. Years of yearning, fighting, loss, betrayal, and bloodshed...all for this. And now, standing before it, I can't bring myself to touch it."

He stepped forward and began to place his hand on her shoulder, but he stopped himself. He took a step back and clasped his hands behind his back. She turned to face him when she heard his footsteps. An emotion he couldn't identify written on her face. She looked almost frightened.

"I've heard it's dreadfully uncomfortable." With this her face softened into a light smile. "What have you got there?" He nodded towards the book in her hand.

She held up the book and showed him the cover, "_The Histories of Westeros_\- some recommended reading from Tyrion."

"Ah yes. I suppose it is important to know the history of those you are to rule," he gave her a half smile, but her face fell, and she looked at the floor.

"Yes."

He had not intended to make her feel insecure, but rather encourage her to keep going. "Your ancestors feature heavily in the founding of Westeros. Things have finally come full circle."

"Few Targaryens seem to have ruled justly."

"On the contrary, many ruled quite well by the standards of their time."

"Conquered."

"What?"

"Aegon the Conqueror _conquered_ Westeros. Targaryen's throughout history have conquered lands, prompted war and rebellion, married their siblings, and hatched dragons. Fire and blood indeed."

With some effort she sat on the bottom step, and patted the spot beside her in a silent request for him to join her. He adjusted his swordbelt and sat beside her.

"Jaehaerys the First ended the Faith Militant Rebellion and ruled through one of the most prosperous eras in Westerosi history."

"And for every Jaehaerys I, there has been a Maegor the Cruel, Baelor the Blessed, or Mad King Aerys II." Her voice was hollow.

"You will not become your father. I know you've had nightmares about this chair and the power that accompanies it, but it's just a symbol. This grotesque piece of furniture is not what makes you Queen."

"So you've said. What does? Oh yes, my gentle heart. Many Targaryens seem to have had long reigns without such sympathy." She gave him an incredulous look.

"That coldness is not reserved for your ancestors alone. Robert Baratheon was negligent at best. It seems Joffrey was an utter terror, and you know what Cersei was capable of. A gentle heart is something these kingdoms have not seen in centuries."

"Will I also rule with the constant threat of civil war or rebellion?"

"No. I will do everything in my power to ensure that nothing threatens you ever again..."

_Including me._

He looked at her. If he was truly going to protect her, he knew what he had to do.

Daenerys sensed the change in his mood and shifted to place a hand on his cheek. "What is it, my bear?"

He flinched and turned away from her palm as it grazed his skin. "I can't."

"Oh, not this again. I'm afraid I don't have a sheet to drop this time." She gave him a coy smirk and reached for him once more.

"No, Your Grace." With this he stood, creating some distance between them, and turned to face her.

"Your Grace?" Her smile faded.

"We cannot continue down this path."

"Gods, you really mean it." She looked at him with piercing eyes.

"I do."

She shook her head, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I want what's best for you."

"Ha!" She stood with an exasperated sigh.

"Because it's safer this way. Easier."

"Easier? Easier for whom? Whose idea was this? Yours or Tyrion's?"

He didn't know how to answer. Her eyes searched his for answers he could not give her.

"I see. And who do the two of you suggest in your place?"

"...Jon Snow."

"You can't be serious," she scoffed.

"You love him."

"I loved him once."

"You love him still. I've watched you love enough men to know the difference."

She flinched as if his words had struck her. It was a cruel thing to say. He hadn't meant to say it, but now he could not take it back.

"Jon no longer loves me." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"He will do what's best for his people."

"Must the two of us be condemned to a loveless marriage because it's what is best for our people?"

"You still love each other. Perhaps not romantically, but he would never hurt you. It is a powerful alliance. A necessary alliance."

She tried to move past him, but he caught her arm gently. It was the first contact they'd had since he kissed her goodbye this morning. Now she responded like his touch stung her.

"Let me go, Jorah."

"Dany-"

"Don't."

He released her arm, "This is what's best for you. For the security of your reign. For the Seven Kingdoms."

"I am so sick of men deciding what is best for me. What if-" she stopped herself and considered him for a moment. A flicker of resentment and sadness passed across her face. "What if I am not best for the Seven Kingdoms? Shouldn't I be allowed to make that decision for myself?"

"If you're not, then who is?"

"A great many people, I imagine."

"This is your destiny."

"Destiny? After all of the terrible things we've seen, you still believe in destiny? Is it my destiny to never be allowed to be with the person I love? Was it my destiny to watch two of my children, Drogo, and you die? Was it destiny when Missandei was murdered on the city gate? When I burned men alive for my own advancement, was that destiny? The Masters of Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen, the Khals, the Tarly's, Varys...that's quite a high body count for the sake of my destiny."

She spat the words at him.

He took a step towards her.

She took a step away from him.

"All of those men would have done worse to you given the opportunity."

"And when I wanted to burn this city to the ground killing thousands of innocents, what would that have been?"

"You weren't in your right mind. What Varys did-"

"WE CAN'T KNOW THAT!" She took a moment to collect herself and continued, "We can never know if that's true."

"Everything that you have done and will do, everything that you have seen, has led you here. You are meant to rule this country, and Jon can ensure that you do so without further threat. If you are tired of fighting, Jon is your best option."

"And you? Where does this leave you?"

He hesitated. Where did it leave him?

"As your Lord Commander. As an adviser."

"It could never be that simple between us. It never has been." She crossed to him then and placed her hands on either side of his face. "Look me in the eye and tell me this is what you want for us. Tell me you don't love me."

Looking into her eyes, all he wanted to do was tell her he loved her.

"You know I can't."

"Then why do this now when we're so close."

They stared at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity.

"It is my duty to serve you."

She dropped her hands and backed away from him. "Your duty?"

He could see that of all of the words they had thrown at each other, this had caused her the most pain. He hated himself for it.

He had never served her out of duty. He served her because he loved her.

Tears filled her eyes and she turned her back to him.

"Tell Tyrion I will consider his suggestion. In the meantime, he is not to proceed with his plot until I have made my decision." Her voice was measured and cold.

All he wanted to do was go back to last night. He wanted to hold her close and feel the warmth of her breath against his cheek. He was sorry. So profoundly sorry.

"Khaleesi-"

"Goodnight, Ser. You have made your point and done your _duty_. You are dismissed." She did not turn to look at him as he left, and he couldn't help but feel that she had just banished him once again.


	11. Chapter 11 (Part 1)

Chapter 11 (Part 1)

**I don't own GoT.**

**I'm splitting this into two parts because the end of this chapter is taking longer than I would like, and I feel like this bit is as ready as it's going to get.**

** BUT Part 2 is nearly finished so be on the lookout for another update soon. **

* * *

** TYRION**

For the last few weeks, things had been tense between the Queen and her council. Whatever had transpired between Mormont and Daenerys had the desired effect, but not without a certain amount of backlash for everyone involved.

Their Queen, who had been generally quite warm in the weeks following her illness, had once again turned steely. Now that Daenerys was fully recovered from her injuries, council meetings were brief and no longer took place in her chambers. Members of her council were no longer allowed in her chambers without an explicit invitation. It made meeting with the Queen rare and difficult as she began retreating more and more into her personal quarters.

Mormont wouldn't share the details of their argument. The most Tyrion could get from him was that he had done what was asked of him- and judging by their respective demeanors, he had done it at great personal cost to them both. It was enough to make Tyrion wonder if it had been the right choice in the first place.

They were separate and fucking miserable.

Both were unpleasant company.

For example, in today's meeting, Daenerys - in one of her infrequent appearances - sat at the head of the table surrounded by himself, Jon, and Ser Davos while Mormont stood brooding in the far corner of the room. There he was, in full Queen's Guard regalia, ready to fight and die for her at any moment but never looking at her. Nor she at him.

For Tyrion's part, every suggestion he made was picked apart or dismissed entirely.

Daenerys was punishing them both.

It was the raven delivered to him this morning from Sansa Stark that had prompted Daenerys to join them.

After a prolonged silence Tyrion began, "Your Grace, I have received word from Sansa Stark that Lord Tully and Lord Arryn have joined them and are traveling South with the Stark party- evidently, Gendry Baratheon is with them as well. It seems he never left Winterfell after the Long Night. This missive indicates that they should arrive in King's Landing before nightfall. Arrangements are being made to ready all available rooms not damaged during the siege, and a welcome feast is being prepared for this evening."

Daenerys drummed her fingers on the table, "I shall leave the details of the feast in your expert hands, Lord Tyrion, as none of us have enjoyed quite as many feasts as you."

"That is probably true, Your Grace. What would you like us to do when the party arrives? It is customary to send a welcome party to greet important guests upon their arrival."

"They're Jon's family. He can escort them to the Keep and I will greet them at the feast this evening. No doubt they will want time to rest after such a long journey."

She looked towards Jon who nodded his agreement, "Of course, Your Grace."

"Good. That's settled. Now, do we have any suggestions for the Master of Coin, or should I go pluck someone from the street to fill the seat?" she asked coldly. Tyrion felt her eyes boring into him. She brought this up at every meeting she attended- a not-so-subtle critique of his efforts.

"I still believe that Ser Bronn of the Black Water would do well as Master of Coin," Tyrion said somewhat sheepishly.

She arched an eyebrow, "Do you really? And does Ser Bronn know how to establish trade with the Free Cities, repay the Iron Bank, budget for the grain and food supplies that will see these Kingdoms through a long winter?"

"…He might-"

She held up her hand to silence him, "No. Find someone else. And for the Master of Laws?"

Tyrion sighed, "Again, I maintain that Ser Brienne of Tarth is best suited to serve as your Master of Laws."

"And she maintains that she is pledged to Lady Sansa, does she not?"

"Perhaps if you would speak to Brienne directly? If you convince her that you would value her service, she might be more inclined to accept."

"Jon, do you think your sister would be willing to part with Ser Brienne if I requested it?"

Jon shrugged, "I couldn't say, Your Grace. I know Sansa respects Brienne enough to consider her wishes. It couldn't hurt to speak with Brienne about it."

"Very well. Tell Ser Brienne I will meet with her this evening before the feast. We'll see what her feelings are on the matter and decide from there."

Tyrion bowed his head in her direction. It was a small victory. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Daenerys stood, "Is that all, then?"

Tyrion glanced towards Jorah, "Not quite, Your Grace…Prince Martell has arrived from Dorne. As you know, Dorne has always been a powerful Targaryen ally."

"Yes, and?"

Tyrion continued carefully, "I would suggest inviting him to sup by your side this evening… as a gesture of peace and goodwill."

The room fell silent.

Daenerys bit her bottom lip hard and clenched her fists. She knew what he was insinuating, and she didn't like it. She cast a fleeting look towards the corner of the room. Mormont continued to look at the floor.

She let out a frustrated sigh, "Fine. Please extend an invitation to Prince Martell on my behalf. Now is that all?"

"Yes, Your Grace." Tyrion bowed his head in her direction.

"Good day then," Daenerys said curtly and exited the chamber before the others could even rise from their seats.

"Well, she's particularly cheery today," Davos said sarcastically.

Jon shot him a scolding look, "Careful."

"Do any of you know where she goes after scolding us?" Davos said.

"She visits Drogon if she can find him. Then she returns to her chambers." Jorah responded quietly.

Of course he knew. That was Mormont's greatest punishment in all of this. No matter what happened between the two of them, he was still her sworn sword. He must know where she was at all times, and with whom. Forever.

"She should start holding audiences with her people. It doesn't look good for a Queen to ignore her people. We're her advisors. We should advise her better." Davos added.

"She will. Soon, I'm sure." Jon countered in her defense.

"It can't come soon enough," Davos said under his breathe.

The smuggler had a point, but Daenerys wasn't interested in anything any of them had to say at the moment.

Tyrion smoothed his beard, "Anyone else want a drink?"

* * *

**JORAH**

Jorah followed the others towards the Great Hall. Tyrion was telling a joke about a honeycomb and a jackass- a joke he had heard Tyrion start a handful of times but had yet to hear him finish.

He was trying to give Daenerys as much space as he could- even going as far as asking Grey Worm to be her primary guard for the time being. As a result, Jorah listened to Tyrion talk ad nauseam. That was their routine now. Tyrion talked and Jorah listened. He knew that Tyrion talked to purge his mind and his guilt, and while it was tedious, it was preferable to being alone.

_"_Ser Jorah," he heard a voice call out behind him.

The group turned to see Samwell Tarly hurrying down the hall.

"Ah, Samwell. Come join us at breakfast." Tyrion said.

"I'll join you in a moment, My Lord.But I was hoping I might speak to Ser Jorah in private if that's alright?" Sam looked towards Jorah.

Jorah nodded.

Tyrion gave a sarcastic chuckle, "You'd be better off speaking to yourself, my boy. See you at breakfast." He patted Jorah on the arm before continuing down the hall with the others, "As I was saying, the Madame asked, 'what's with the honeycomb and the mule?'…"

Jorah turned his focus to Sam, "What can I do for you, lad?"

"I did some research into the rubies worn by the priestesses of R'hllor, as you requested."

"Did you find anything?"

Sam lowered his voice, "Well, there's not much written history about the religion, unfortunately. What's more, there's nothing to indicate that all red priestesses possess such a ruby. It doesn't seem to be compulsory. However, there was a passage in _Rare Gems of the East _that mentioned a theory in which shadowbinders in Asshai enchant gems as a conduit through which to hone their power and extend their natural lives. Lady Melissandre was from Asshai, so it's possible that you now possess her stone."

"Who would have known of its power? Who put it on my body?"

"That I don't know, but I know someone who might. I'll keep digging."

Jorah placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Thank you, Sam. I owe you a great deal."

Sam looked at the floor, "Well, actually… I'm hoping I might ask you a favor."

Jorah smiled gently, "I would be happy to do whatever I can."

"It's my wife, Gilly - I sent for her right after we arrived. It's been weeks now, and in all that time she's only really seen me and Jon. She's bored and unhappy. She's a Wildling, and the southern customs are strange to her-"

"They're strange to me as well."

"Yes, well, precisely. I mean… um, I'm hoping you might speak with her at the feast this evening. She's expecting, and I don't want her to feel isolated. I know you've spent a lot of time across the Narrow Sea learning about many foreign cultures. I'm hoping you might be able to make her feel more at ease in a room full of highborn lords and ladies. I just-"

Jorah cut him off, "I'd love to."

Sam smiled brightly, "You would? Alright. But don't mention that I asked-she wouldn't like knowing that I meddled."

Jorah chuckled. That sounded familiar. "Of course."

"Thank you, Ser."

"Sam, call me Jorah. Please."

"Thank you, Jorah."

Sam entered the dining hall ahead of Jorah and joined Jon and the others.

Jorah looked around the room. It was full of people he didn't know. Young men and women busy readying the hall for this evening's festivities. At the Queen's behest, Tyrion had posted requests for people with experience in various specialties to come to the Keep and train as servants. It was menial work, but it was necessary to maintain the Keep. Those who proved to have the needed skills would be provided with a small wage, food, clean clothes, and a place to sleep. For many, it was the most secure they'd ever been.

He glanced to his left and noticed Brienne of Tarth sitting alone in the corner of the room. Brienne had arrived in King's Landing too late to say goodbye to Ser Jaime. She had intended to return North until she heard that the Starks were journeying South.

She kept to herself most of the time. This was the first time in weeks that Jorah had seen her taking breakfast in the Great Hall. They had met in passing while at Winterfell, but they had never really spoken. Jorah figured now was as good a time as any.

"Good morning, Ser." Jorah said softly.

Brienne jumped slightly, "Ser Jorah?"

"I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, not at all. I just wasn't expecting you. Last time I saw you your body was being burned… I'm sorry. That was crude. Forgive me."

She looked down at her plate and pushed a boiled potato around absentmindedly.

"There is nothing to forgive. Believe me, I've heard much worse." He gave her a half-smile. "I don't want to interrupt you, but I bring a request from the Queen."

"Oh?"

"She'd like to speak with you this evening before the feast."

"Have I done something to offend Her Grace?"

"Oh no, on the contrary. I believe she'd like to know you better."

"I see. Well, what kind of knight would I be if I said no to the Queen?"

Jorah gestured to the open seat across from her, "Do you mind if I sit? I'd like to speak to someone other than Tyrion Lannister for a change."

Brienne nodded, "Of course."

They sat in silence.

"I apologize. I'm not particularly good company at present."

"Neither am I. I don't mind the silence."

She pushed her plate away, "I never thought I'd be in this room again. I hate it here. I feel so useless."

"Perhaps I can help? Being Captain of the Queen's Guard does have its small privileges."

"I just want to hit something."

Jorah looked at her and considered her suggestion, "Come with me."

Jorah had fought many skilled warriors, and on occasion he even considered himself to be one, but Brienne was exemplary.

She had a lethal combination of skill and brute strength. Each thrust was matched blow for blow, and with so much force that Jorah struggled to keep hold of his sword. He had been a good match for her initially, but now he had no idea how long they had been sparring. Both were covered in sweat and dirt, and he felt himself growing tired. He may have matched her in technique, but she seemed determined to outlast his stamina.

Brienne moved in for a strike at an opening near his hip, Jorah tried to deflect it but as he threw his weight into the deflection, Brienne was given a chance to throw him off balance and she took it.

Jorah felt his sword leave his hand as he fell hard on the ground.

"I yield, Ser." He held up his hands in surrender.

Brienne brushed a sweaty lock of hair from her face and offered him a hand.

He sat up and patted the ground beside him. He needed to sit for a moment.

"Who taught you to fight?" She picked up his sword and passed it to him before taking a seat on the ground next to him.

"My father taught me the basics, but I practiced a lot. As a woman in this world, if you aren't the best, you're nothing at all."

Jorah chuckled under his breath, "The Queen's going to like you."

"And if I don't like her?" She stopped and looked at him with a mortified expression. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

Jorah shrugged, "From what I can tell she's not that different from Sansa Stark."

"I'm not sure Lady Stark would appreciate that comparison."

Jorah sheathed his sword, "I know better than anyone else how difficult Daenerys can be. She can be stubborn, reckless, and temperamental. But underneath she's forgiving, compassionate, and capable of profound love and vulnerability."

"Yours is hardly an unbiased opinion."

"I wouldn't serve her if I didn't think she was our best chance."

"Yes, you would. You're in love with her."

Jorah looked at her in surprise.

Brienne looked away, a bit embarrassed, "I know what a broken heart looks like, Ser Jorah."

She looked him in the eye then, and he knew she meant it.

After a moment she continued, "The last time I spoke to Jaime was in the dead of night as he left Winterfell for King's Landing. I told him that this city would be destroyed. I told him he would be killed. I begged him to stay- to stay with me. He told me that everything he had done in his life had been for Cersei. He said terrible, hateful things and left me standing alone in the courtyard convinced that he had never truly cared for me…But Jaime died trying to protect this country from his sister, and he hurt me because he knew I wouldn't let him go unless I believed that he didn't love me. He did it to protect me." She paused for a moment and considered him, "I think you tried to protect her too, but you were wrong, and now she isn't speaking to you. That's the only reason you're not guarding her door right now. Because she won't let you."

Jorah didn't know how to respond, "You're very perceptive."

"No, I'm not. You're just not very subtle."

Jorah couldn't help but laugh.

"So, what exactly are you trying to protect her from this time?"

"An unconventional choice."

"You mean You?"

Jorah looked down and nodded, "Yes."

"Fuck convention. I mean it. Nothing about any of us is conventional. If we were conventional, we wouldn't be sitting here now. Think about the history of this country. It's the breaks from the conventional that we remember- those are the moments they write songs about. Maybe you aren't the problem, maybe you're the solution."

The afternoon bell rang in the distance marking the hour.

"Oh Gods, we were out here longer than I thought. I ought to clean myself up before I meet with the Queen."

Brienne gathered her things and stood to leave.

"Brienne, thank you."

She gave him a small nod before walking away.

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter! It's so encouraging to hear that people are still enjoying the story, even after these long breaks. **

**That said, these last few chapters are taking me a long time because I'm incorporating characters that I'm not as comfortable writing dialogue for. My dialogue for Jorah and Dany always comes relatively easily, but everyone else...*sigh***


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